Entry #687238, added on 02-11-10 @ 11:54 pm EST
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No one has been able to understand why I won't use my 'contacts' in order to get a job. What good are principles?, they've been asking me, and to everyone I say that I recognize that my principles have no obvious market value, but to me they are clean. To me, they are beyond measure.
But, principles won't keep the lights on.
So, I gave in. M. had coffee with his friend C. and another friend, S., who is also a physician. Two doctors and I'm trying to be a medical office administrator. So, M., who is not against using a contact, mentioned that I am job-hunting, and S. said 'Send her over to my clinic! We're looking for people!'. Upon hearing this, my legs went numb. M. was annoyed by my reaction and I blurted out 'Look, you may as well get used to the fact that I'm never going to have the reactions of normal people. You tell me this great bit of news and I am instantly filled with dread. It isn't that I'm ungrateful because I'm grateful, it's just that I have to do it. I have to step into that world and move away from my comfort zone and I have a lot of difficulty with that, so let me be frightened right now, okay?'. He backed down.
Today, I went to the clinic, which is not unlike a tiny corporation, so shiny and clean with ringing phones governed by five different receptionists, and I nervously asked for the woman I was told to ask for. She ushered me to a conference room where we had a very informal chat about my resume and past work experience. She went on about how it's a real 'family' there, and I felt like I'd heard it all before, mostly because I have, when I was the person conducting interviews. How weird to be on the other side of this, truly. Anyway, she said she'd be calling me for a formal interview in a couple weeks, and there was no talk of 'if we call' or 'don't call us, we'll call you', it was an emphatic, unwavering 'we'll have our interview soon'. It's not definite, but it could be the start of something. Also, C. would like to take me to lunch (?) next week to discuss my 'goals'. Both M. and I find this slightly strange as C. is in no position to hire me as he's chosen to retire from surgery soon, and I'm fairly certain my goal of 'finding employment' is pretty straightforward, but it would be rude to refuse him, no? M. keeps making jokes about C. trying to steal me away, which seems mostly improbable, but then we stop laughing and the silence is pregnant.
I am happy that I may finally be on the road to gainful employment, but there is a part me raging that my resume and experience are not enough to hook me a job. I had to know someone, and I hate that. I know the right people, have connections and it seems so elitist to me. Come to think of it, my previous jobs were the result of the people I knew: bag-girl at the hardware store because my mother worked there, bakery assistant because my mother's friend, who worked there, recommended me, and my last job, retail manager because R.'s boss' wife worked for the company and recommended me. I have never gotten a job because my resume was stellar.
A woman I go to school with mentioned to me the other day how frustrating she is finding the job hunt. She hissed bitterly about how 'you need to know someone to get anywhere', and I said nothing, because I knew she was mostly right. She then said that she couldn't see me having any trouble finding anything because I'm so 'smart'. I wondered about this. How does she know if I'm smart or not? What is it about me that would lead her to believe I possess anything above average intelligence? I do not disclose my grades and I don't often engage in spirited debate, but for some reason, she's decided I'm brainy. It doesn't displease me to know she sees me this way, and if nothing else, it makes me feel a little more confident that maybe I look capable of handling things, but it also made me curious. What does 'smart' look like? Today, when I saw her, I decided to lie when she asked me if I was making any progress in my quest for employment. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I have prospects, and that those prospects have very little to do with my brains and more to do with who M. chooses to drink coffee with. I'd rather she think I'm an egghead.
I don't like talking or writing about career stuff, mostly because I imagine curses on anything I acknowledge publicly, like talking about my love for M. is just cause for fate to rip us apart. Intellectually, I know this is ridiculous on my part, but I can't help but think it just the same. Like today, the single ladies at school cornered me in the student lounge and began peppering me with questions about M., how we met, how long we've been together, etc. They weren't being nosy, either. They were simply trying to find some hope. Someone had told someone that the girl with the long reddish-blonde hair met her man on the internet, and they swarmed me like a pack of man-hungry bees. I felt like Olivia Newton-John's character, Sandy Olsen, in Grease, talking about my summer nights. They hung on my every word, and I was red-faced with embarrassment, trying to ignore the fantastical looks in their eyes, knowing that I wasn't so much concerned about their hope as I was about mine. A fairytale happened to me, there's no debating that, but fairytales have to become reality at some point. Eventually, the two worlds collide. In my head, talking about how much I adore M. lets reality stake a claim in more territory because I know that fantasy can't go on forever. I've already had more than most people do, and I feel selfish about that, perhaps undeserving. I had to counterbalance all my talk of romance and fateful signs by making jokes about M.'s age versus my own. I made silly comments about always being the younger woman, about how I can help him up the stairs, etc., and they all laughed and made comments about they didn't realize I was funny. They have no idea that I use humour to hide behind when I'm feeling naked. It's just what I do.
Then, I tell myself I deserve what I want as much as anyone does. I want the family, the job, the money and the freedom as much as the next person. I don't have grand ideas, not really. I'd like to get better at writing, become something above passable, and I'm looking for confidence in it. I don't want a lot of material things, though I am a big comfort enthusiast. I don't want to worry about things I can't control, as much as I want to be able to deal with the things I can control. I'm tired of thinking I have no say.
Hormones are pulling the puppet strings again. I am quite literally staring at the screen wavering between crying or laughing hysterically. I am going to opt for a shower and then bed. I can't make sense of myself right now and shouldn't expect you to, either.
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