|Me and my friend, out at Happy Hour when I last held a job.|
That's right Beaaaccches. You heard me. Today, I got a job. No, not that kind of job. Get your noses out of Shades of Grey ( a yet, unwritten, impending post), and listen. I had a REAL interview, with a REAL resume (well, as far as they know! Seriously, how can you really fake that you haven't worked in ten years.) and I wore REALLY tall heels I borrowed from my neighbor, after I made her come outside (whilst she is trying to cope with having two babies, 3 and under), and made her evaluate each of the three outfits I had created. Erin chose one rather decisively, (for her, now that I think about it), and presented me with these awesome Calvin Klein heels, that were not only flesh colored, but were platform, with a wooden bottom, closed toe, and faux snakeskin. PURRRRFECT.
She not only made me go upstairs, a few times, to contribute jewelry to each look, as I stood on my gigantic wooden ottoman outside, which everyone thinks as a hot tub, and modeled each look, by holding it up next to my body, (I hadn't showered all day, and I have a strict rule that I do not do a fashion show when I am dirty. It's just not right, in my book.) Erin, would stand on her tiptoes, on the other side of the fence, look me up and down, and make me show her the shoes and jewelry I planned to wear with each.
I would have asked her to choose my make up if one of her kids didn't have diarrhea.
Listen, I have been out of the game for 10 years. This is a very big deal. And like every other real friend you have, Erin got it, and it was like we were both going on the interview.
I have a friend, Amy, that I recently reconnected with, that once said to me, "a real friend is a person who cares about the little, tiny details of your life like they are living it with you. My sister is like that. She will ask me about something so insignificant that I mentioned on the phone, like some pillow I saw on Ebay, or if my kid is still getting up in the night, or whatever. And she actually CARES what the answer is. That is the single trait that I value in all of my real friends." Truer words have never been spoken.
In essence, Erin and I can talk about the big things like my Mom or Brad, but she also asks me about my gigantic weed that grew to be 5 feet tall (y'all, it was thistle) and whether or not I was ever able to dig out the root. They actually begged me to see how big I could get it, because it is in full view of their patio, but it was blocking my hose so I had to cut it down. I mean, that wasn't really it, I have standards, you know?
With a southern accent in the Midwest, you always have to walk that fine line between Southern Belle and redneck.
I think that I keep a good balance.
So, ANYWAY, I do not sleep at all the night before the interview, and if you know German Village, where the interview and business is, it is rich with old brick streets. I never walk in heels and then I am faced with the equivalent of bare feet on hot stones. Classic.
Okay, so back up, the reason I couldn't sleep all night was because I kept having stress dreams where I arrived at the interview all harried like I always am, and I pan down, while I am inquiring after my appointment, and discover that I still have on my sweatpants. My dream camera then pans back up and I have forgotten to shower and have not brushed my teeth. In between those episodes of pure anxiety, I would awake and remember different movie scenarios about interviewing, and break out into a cold sweat.
Here is my favorite all time interview scene, I kept imagining, (over and over), that my interview the next day was SURE to mimick.
This was being alternated, in my brain, with this one, which is part of my favorite movie of all time, "Goodwill Hunting".
So, anyway, through the grace of GAWD, I landed the job and the "retainer video" above comes into play, here, because I forgot to ask what I would be making. That's right, not during the interview and not during the offer. Now, to be fair, there was no real offer, the owner just called me up to tell me, "We chose youuuuu, Gurl!" and I was so elated, that I guess if I am honest with myself, that I didn't really CARE what the compensation was.
Hey, like I told my neighbors, John and Erin, today, when they asked me how much I was getting paid, "I may be getting class credits, for all I know. This could be an internship. I have no idea. And I don't care."
John then suggested that maybe they mistook me for a felon, who needed hours toward my Community Service." LOVE THEM.
I don't remember all of the interview, because I was in the middle of an anxiety-induced episode, and was extremely sleep deprived, and I had had one to many cups of coffee, with no breakfast, and so it's kinda spotty, but I DO remember at the end of the interview, that they informed me of having two other candidates, and I actually said, "Well, I guess it's just like The Bachelor. It feels like I have done a good job, and we have really connected, but the next person might have higher heels and a shorter skirt." (See video ONE) They laughed, THANK GAWD, but then one of them said, "Well, I don't watch that show, but that's funny. I get it. I mean, I could imagine."
I walked in a dream-like state to my car, and immediately realized how much I wanted and NEEDED that job. That sounds stalker-like, but it's not, it's supposed to read as endearing, with a little bit of romanticism sprinkled on it.
You see, I needed that job on several different levels, none of which, I apparently associate with monetary. Anybody whose head is at where mine is right now does not need an elaboration on that statement.
I don't mean that like I don't need the money, because I do, We do, but by pure happenstance, I came across this perfect part-time job, that in my mind, did not exist anymore.
Anyway, my search started out at the beginning of the year, with a random shout out on Facebook, with some sarcastic or goofy comment along with it, where I received several inquiries, but most of the responses indicated that they did not think that I was serious. We'll just leave it at that.
Anyway, from there, I got a few leads, but I wasn't excited about any of the prospects. I joined stupid websites that provided me with daily feeds, like part-time jobs.com and the like.
I began to realize that short of stocking shelves at some supersto' or cold calling, all the good part-time jobs, were acquired by those that transitioned from full-time to part-time.
None of it, excited me, and all of it, discouraged me, so I began to contemplate full-time and the impact that would have on me and my family vs. the clear monetary and insurance benefits.
It's just that I am old enough to know, if I have learned ANYTHING about myself, that if in my gut, it feels bad, then that condition does not change, it just intensifies.
My great friends, and apparent angels, The Morgan family, who, for some reason have showered me with positive energy and warmth, put me in touch with this new adventure, and I will be eternally grateful. XOXOXOXO, y'all.
My unsolicited advice to you is two-fold, one superficial, and one introspective. First, watch the series, Girls on HBO. It is half-way through the season, and is the representation of the updated social progression of the quintessential girl posse trying to find their way in New York City. The author and star is Lena Dunham. The show is produced by Judd Apatow (I am positively obsessed with his wife, Leslie Mann. When I see stills of her in US Magazine, talking to someone at an event, I secretly wish it was me.) of "40-year-old Virgin," "Knocked Up," and the like.
If the premise sounds familiar, it is, only much better. Dunham has acquiesced that her show would not be possible without the ground breaking that Sex in the City did, before her. In a way, Girls is a bit of an homage to Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. And, Girls does offer a variation on the theme, in terms of it's characters, but it is still fresh. Just watch it, you'll see what I mean. It's just much more REAL, and they all don't have fabulous bodies and their fashion and the city isn't in the forefront. The story lines are more important and the writing is better.
In a way, Girls makes Sex and the City look a little kitchy, especially if you want to count the last movie. Just watch it. And then...you're welcome.
On a deeper level, don't be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. My good friend, Alison, enlightened me that you don't always have to stick to what you thought you were always going to do. "It's okay to EVOLVE," she told me as I poured my heart out to her over martinis. "You are allowed to change your mind about the direction you thought your life was going to go. Give yourself a pass."
So, in essence, THIS protagonist in the story finally gets a break, and will now attempt to get her Mojo back. Are you rooting for her? I AM.