I just had a phone interview! For a job that wouldn’t make me feel like I was wasting my life! It’s at the university! It would be about 2/3 the hours I worked at my old job, but my paychecks would be 150% of what I made before! I would get to interact with humans, and facilitate learning!
I think it went well, but they only asked me a very few questions. But the questions they did ask were ones that I could answer easily, and they opened the door for me to a) brag about my experience teaching undergrads at UC-Berkeley, and b) talk about how badly I miss working in education.
Here’s the thing, though. They still haven’t asked for a cover letter, or a resume, or references. I got the phone interview based solely on my score on a state-administered standardized test, so now the only information they have is that random number, and my verbal answers to approximately three questions. All that’s left to do now is to try not to hold my breath while I wait for a call about an in-person interview. And write a thank-you email for the interview? Is that a thing people do after a phone interview?
Subconscious self-sabatoge is apparently my new modus operandi. I spend all day looking and applying for jobs, and two weeks ago I was invited to come in for a written test as part of my application for a very promising library job.
The test was this morning. And I just remembered now.
I have never in my life forgotten something important like this. I don’t miss meetings or even deadlines. Ever. This was the first positive response I’d gotten in 13 months of applying for jobs. One opportunity per year, and I completely blew it.
So, new rule. First thing when I get up every morning, I am going to put on my glasses, look my reflection in the eyes, and say “Today is [insert day of the week]. I respect you too much to let you fuck this day up. Today you are going to accomplish ____________.”
The first time I was unemployed (about a year and a half ago), it was scary not to have a job. With each passing month, it got more scary and more frustrating.
Now, it has been a year and a half. I have steadily applied for jobs during that time, and have gotten interviews at only two places. One turned me down after multiple interviews and exams, while the other hired me for a job that kept me slightly-less-than-solvent for a year. Applying for jobs now is terrifying AND frustrating AND soul-crushing. How do you talk yourself up, how do you muster the time and energy to writing a stellar cover letter, when you know there’s an enormous chance that nobody will ever read it?
I wish I could just ask my references to call my potential employers and say “Listen up. Here are several reasons you need this person in your workplace.” I wish that I had the guts to just burst in the door and say “Hey, I don’t know if you got my application, but let me show you what a fucking excellent employee - and person - I am.
With that, I’ll get back to writing another stellar cover letter that will probably never get read.
The dog days are over. It is cold and windy outside, and instead of standing out there getting mauled and barked at, I am in my pajamas listening to music. In a few weeks, I will not be covered in bruises, for the first time in a year. I can wake up with the sun, instead of before it. I can wear clothes that I don’t want destroyed. I can dedicate my time to revamping my etsy store and searching for the kind of job I need and deserve.
So why do I feel like a terrible, irresponsible person?
One of my favorite personality traits that I inherited/learned from my family is this: When we reach the breaking point beyond all stressed-out-ness, we don’t rage or cry or shut down (though any of those things may happen prior to the breaking point). Nope. When we actually snap, we go into hysterics. The laughing kind.
I just gave myself the most ridiculous anti-pep-talk in the bathroom mirror. It ended with me shouting “STOP FUCKING EVERYTHING UP!” at myself, then laughing so hard, and for so long, that my abs are still burning.
There were 30 thousand people who came to see Barack Obama and 6 thousand were turned away.
Some of those six thousand were so desperate to glean some positive energy from this event that they rearranged three people’s work schedules so they could make it, then biked up some giant hills in the rain, then walked two miles in the rain, then waited in line for two hours (in the rain) before being turned away. At which point they pedaled their ass home in some more rain and, feeling sorry for themselves, downed half a bottle of wine because fuck you universe.
Those people are going to bed now, so they can stop being such whiny assholes and wake up tomorrow ready to try, try again to find a glimmer of hope that maybe eventually something good will happen, something, anything, someday, maybe.
Don’t remember what spurred me to suddenly look at personality descriptors, but this one just explained to me something about myself that I have been struggling to explain/justify to someone lately:
INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people — a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious “soul mates.” While instinctively courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent “givers.” As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood — particularly by those who have little experience with this rare type.