I have three job interviews this week.
Job number one is the management trainee position for the language school company I work for, which would involve spending six months in a very cool big city somewhere (like San Francisco or New York), followed by a couple of years someplace else over which I would have no say. Caspar, Wyoming, for example. This is starting to feel like a shoe-in, and I think it might be a hoot, but don't count your chickens before they're hatched/there's many a slip twixt the cup and the lip/a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush/more tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones/if at first you don't succeed, try try again/if you can keep your head about you when all else are losing theirs, you may have failed to completely grasp the situation.
Job number two is a state job in Santa Fe, so vague in description and duties that I have no comment (a rare situation for me). The administrative person who called me about the interview mumbled so badly that I'm not completely sure which agency I'm interviewing with. I hope there's a plaque on the office door to give me a hint.
Job number three is a gig reading Tarot on the phone from home for a Psychic Readers-esque company "Not affiliated with Dionne Warwick."
This will give you an idea just how wide I'm throwing the net.
Other jobs stand just over the horizon - a member development position for a prestigious museum in Sante Fe; a federal job coordinating litigation in environmental cases; and something that has rather piqued my Mickey Rooney Can-Do spirit - a FEMA job helping to clean up the administrative mess left by Hurricane Toady down in Nawlins. That I am even contemplating living somewhere humid is a testament to my bravery/desperation/weight loss. I mean, Stevie in the deep south? I'll be changing my name to Sweatface Piggly Wiggly.
I did two brave things today.
(1) I withdrew my application for the make-copies-till-you-croak job. Just don't want to do that for a living (and, honestly, just don't want the humiliation of being turned down for such a sad little job).
(2) I bought a bright green Izod polo shirt with - gasp - horizontal stripes. As any chubby will tell you, this is a catastrophic adipose no-no on a par with eating a big, dripping triple scoop ice cream cone in the street in front of strangers on a hot August day without access to napkins.
Tomorrow I will do another brave thing: keep trying to believe in myself.
[inhale]
It. will. work. out. I. know. it. will.
[exhale]
3 comments:
"Sweatface Piggly wiggly" what??!! hahahahhahahahha! Well, you can always do what Sheila and I did at school dances- find some nice, cool tile and press your sweaty, red face against it. And then wonder why nobody wants to dance with you. (By the way, one of my friends, who teaches 5th grade, told that dancing-pressing-the-face-against-the-tiles story to her class, and then realized that after recess, the students were doing that against the cool cinderblock walls while she read aloud to them. So there! We might have started something, Sheila!!!)
Beth - that's Mizz Sweatface Piggly Wiggly to you! :)
I remember reading the press-face-against-cold-tile story on Sheila's blog and thought, "Those girls sure had a helluva lot of fun at that dance!" Wish I had been there . . .
Only 30 minutes to my phone interview for the management job with the language center. Cross your fingers, Beth!
xoxo S
This is a total cliffhanger. Sheesh. LET US KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.
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