I left the house today in heels and a green dress for an interview. My nails are painted, my jewelry is in place, my resume is printed neatly inside the folder that I use for such events. I drove to the dumpy law firm in central Phoenix where I was scheduled to meet for this temporary work. For 6 weeks I thought I could handle working in that old building with plastic flooring and a broken water cooler. I thought I had this in the bag. I am a college graduate. I am wearing pearls. The lady next to me has acrylic nails longer than her forearm and messy black pants on, covered in animal fur. I took the aptitude test. I failed the aptitude test. You are allotted 6 mistakes, I missed 7. Consequently, I did not get called in for an interview. The lady with hooker heels on did, the lady with a spaghetti strap dress, sitting like a line backer did. I walked out into the blaring summer heat feeling defeated and ashamed.
Defeated because again I remain unemployed. Ashamed because I judged these other women too quickly. My degree, my G.P.A, my bubbly personality matter little. I missed 7 questions, the ill prepared floozy in red probably only missed 5. It's a cruel, cruel world.
Last week I was turned down for a job after several rounds of interviewing because they determined that I was "too qualified" and that I needed to look for something that would better fit my intellect. This week I couldn't cut the mustard. I am too dumb and too smart for my own good.
I hate writing about all of this. I hate putting it out there for the world to see, my flaws, my inadequacy. It is embarrassing but it is what it is. This is my diary. This is my life. These are the things they don't prepare you for as an undergrad. This is what it's like to be young and single and in your early 20's just trying to pay your bills.
They say (although I'm not sure who first coined this stupid advice) that when you fall down you must immediately pick yourself back up again. But sometimes when I fall, I don't want to get back up. I want to sink even lower. I want to slither into my covers and put on my headphones and listen to The Concretes or Bob Dylan.
Sometimes I just want to be alone. Sometimes I just want to scream "WHY THE HELL CAN'T I FIND A DECENT JOB?!?"
Sounds like maybe a blessing in disguise that you did not get the law job with the hookers and the dumpy-ness. I know it prob doesn't feel like that now. I have been an overachiever my whole life, my high school friends are as follows: a med school student, psychology PhD student, English teacher living in France, forensic chemist for the FBI in D.C. and a computer scientist. Me? I write stories about weddings for the newspaper and wait tables. It's taken me a long time to make peace with this.
ReplyDeleteHoney, you need a hug, and then you need a slap in the face. I say the latter part only in the most maternal and kind "make you realize what you have going for yourself" kind of way. It has to be because I am seeing things from a 3rd person perspective that it seems like your life is actually on the right track. More than anything I know that you are a lovely, genuine person, as well as a writer. I sometimes pretend that I can write but whenever I read your blog I am fascinated by how you put words together, and it doesnt matter if it is pizza bites or philosophical work you are discussing, you have a voice. I think the struggles you are going through right now are perfect research for a book. Screw temp work, you dont need temp work. I think this goes back to the discussion that we had on my roof while eating enchilladas- about life. I believe we were contemplating life in terms of our fear of death. I think that is a good starting point to figuring out what you really should be doing in life, both in the realm of work and play! Ciao!
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