Call.Interview.Result

The Call
As I mentioned in Barback Me, Baby!, in the midst of my tenure as a barback, I received a call from a company that I had applied to earlier that summer. 

“Hi, this is blah blah blah from blah blah blah.  You had applied for a position here a few months ago and if you are still interested, we’d love to have you come in for an interview.”

“Sure,” I said flatly.

At that point, I was pretty jaded with everything and as much as I wanted that job when I first applied, I felt pretty blasé about it after the phone call.  I realized that I shouldn’t turn down an opportunity, no matter how I felt about it and no matter how out of reach it seemed yet I didn’t allow myself to get too excited.  I gathered that, at the very least, it would be more practice at interviewing.  If I got the job, good, and if not, who cares?  I had already given in to my misery so I wasn’t investing too much in hope.  Not at the time, anyway.

When I told my mom, she got very excited.  This company is like the best company in the area to work for.  If you can get a job there, you’re pretty much set.  They pay better than just about anyone else around, the benefits are fantastic and it’s good work.  As much as I tried not to get worked up over it, the thought of a regular 8-5 office job coupled with Mom’s enthusiasm got my excitement up as well.  I had to wait a whole week, though, before the scheduled interview.  Every day I was at work, I kept thinking that this could be one of my last weeks here in this hellhole.  The interview will go great, they’ll hire me, I’ll put in my two-week’s notice and then I’ll be up out of here!  That’s when I had to stop myself.  I tried not to get too excited, tried not to get my hopes up.  It’s pretty funny because as cynical and negative as I am, there’s a deep down part of me that is incredibly hopeful.  I think it’s because so many things have been screwed up in my life that I think things have to look up, that things have to turn around because I can’t possibly run into so much bad luck…can I?

The Interview
As soon as my dad heard about my job interview, he went to work.  He knows people that know people that work there and tracked down a guy who has a lot of pull there and told them to put in a good word for me.  Secondly, a lady that I used to work with at Paris Packaging now works there as well.  I wrote her down as a reference.  That made me feel a bit better.  Then, the hesitation set in.

I had prayed for my current job and hate it.  I was worried to pray for the other job because what if I hated it as well?  Sure, God came through for me but it almost felt like I was wishing on a monkey’s claw.  My wish came true but in a twisted, horrible way.  How could God allow me to get such a terrible job?  Maybe because I blindly asked for it without taking into account my happiness?  I decided to be a bit more cautious this time around.

“God, just let me do well during this interview.  I’m not asking for this job, I’m just asking to do well.  That way, if I don’t get the job, I’ll know it wasn’t because of me.”  I then prayed some more about God leading me where I’d be happy.  If I was really going to hate this new job, I didn’t want it and I’d just stay put.  There’s no sense going from one crap job to another.  Of course, I couldn’t see how I’d hate the job since it was an office job, something I had wanted since graduation.  But, I put my trust in God and gave it to Him, trusted that He knew if I’d hate the job and if I was going to, He wouldn’t put me there.  If I was going to love it, He’d put me there.  And there you have it.

I’m one of those people that take rejection personally.  It’s easy for me to forget that a business is a business and the business will do what’s best for itself.  It’s also easy for me to forget that a lot of times, it doesn’t matter what you can do but who you know.  It’s about connections.  It baffles me because I think I have a pretty good resume and I’m fairly articulate, especially for my small town of rednecks who can’t enough pronounce the word resume, much less produce one.  Yes, I’m negative.  Yes, I’m cynical.  No, I’m not that way during an interview.  Believe it or not, I can turn on the charm when forced to do so.

I walked into the building (fifteen minutes early, of course!) and sat down.  My former coworker from Paris Packaging came through one of the doors and spoke to me.  Fantastic!  She was there!  We talked for a bit until it was time for my interview.  And what an interview it was!  An hour and a half of charm, laughs, excellent articulation and answers to their questions.  My former coworker was also still around when the man who interviewed me led me out to the front door.  I stopped and told the man that we used to work together and he was like, “Aah, I didn’t know that, that’s nice!”  I left the two of them alone when I left the building.  I just hoped the man would ask her how I was to work with and she’d talk about how fun and hardworking I was.  Yes, a connection!

I think it was the best interview I’ve ever done and I felt really good about that.  Many thanks to God.  Now, it was in His hands.  I was trying to exercise some faith, although the more I thought about it, the more I really did want the job.  First of all, during the interview, the two people that interviewed me said that the job would be basically faxing, filing, creating documents, etc.  It was basically everything that I did at Paris Packaging and I enjoyed doing that stuff.  It was easy and nothing that was too stressful.  I’d have my own computer and cubicle and the best part is I wouldn’t have to work with the unwashed public.  Also, great benefits and only twenty minutes from home, unlike my current hour and a half hell drive.  I mean, really, how would it not be better than my current job?  But, I still tried to let God handle it.  It wasn’t easy, though, I will admit.  The bad part was the man told me if I was chosen, I’d hear something in a couple of weeks.  A couple of weeks?  Oy.

The Result
I think another reason why I wanted the job so bad was because I disliked my current job so much.  Every day I went into work, I thought to myself, “This could be one of the last weeks I work here!”  A small sliver of joy ran up my spine and lit my face in happiness.  That is, until some lame customer interrupted my daydream to order another beer that I’d have to clean up later. 

As we all like to say in these situations, it was the longest couple of weeks of my life.

I really wanted that job.  As much as I tried not to focus on it and worry about it and just have faith, I couldn’t help it.  That’s just how I am.  I am a thinker.  I am a worrier.  And that’s just what I do, no matter how much I try to deny it or hide it or give it to someone else to take care of. 

And with all the worrying, praying, hoping and faith, I finally got my answer.

After a particularly hard day of work, I came home and noticed an open envelope on my bed.  Obviously, my mom couldn’t wait.  I let out a sigh and knew the answer.  I took out the letter from the envelope, opened it up, scanned it and looked for my rejection.  Scanning, scanning…

There it was.

Earlier, I had told God if I didn’t get the job that I would be upset.  I said that I would be pretty angry because I wouldn’t understand it at first but I would eventually get over it.  Keep the faith, ya know, even if things don’t go your way. 

And there I stood, exhausted and now rejected.  I put the letter down, took a shower and then went to bed.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t as angry as I had suspected.  I was just pretty numb.  It’s like, of course I didn’t get it.  Another chance at happiness ripped away.  The anger came later.  I think I was too tired after the initial rejection to be angry.

I guess I just don’t understand because I didn’t even ask for this.  I gave up on that job this past summer when I didn’t hear anything back the first time.  And I was fine.  And then another chance at the job falls into my lap and I took it because it was still a job I wanted but I didn’t ask for all the trouble and mental energy that it was going to take up.  It just seemed like everything came together with that job.  Dad knew a guy.  I knew a lady that worked there.  I did so well during the interview.  The job came out of the blue during my unfortunate time as a barback.  It just all made sense that I would get it.  And I still didn’t.  And I’m still stuck at my old job.

It’s just another paper cut in my life, just another thing to make me feel crazy and unnecessarily hurt me.  Yet, I’m still trying to keep the faith, still trying to pray that I’ll be lead to a job that won’t make me contemplate cliff diving.