Jobby Things

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I worked for six hours at the temp gig last Monday. The boss who hadn’t spoken to me beyond a clipped “hello” last week, was suddenly friendly and curious. Seems they had a position open up unexpectedly and she was hoping to slide me into it. Except that she didn’t want to tell the temp agency. And the position was not what I was looking for. Still, I agreed to consider being considered and she set up an interview for Tuesday. This wouldn’t have been a particularly unhandy move if I hadn’t already had two interviews scheduled for Tuesday. One with the County, for a position I knew virtually nothing about and the other, with a Health Care Facility, just a few blocks from our house.

The County interview was first, at 8:30 a.m. and it was a bust. Despite the fact that the position’s designation was the same as my job back in Santa Cruz, the first question poised to me was a dead giveaway that this was NOT the job I was looking for. Do you have experience in a high-energy sales position? Um, no. Did you even LOOK at my resume? I have never and have no interest in ever working in a high-energy (i.e. pushy) sales position. We were in there for ten minutes and at the end of the interview, when they asked if I had any questions, I responded with, “Yes, can you tell me what this position is and how it relates to the designation of my last job? Because honestly, they seem worlds apart.”

The Health Care Facility interview was longer. Forty-some-odd minutes in a small stuffy room with a long list of prying questions. There was a part of me, I think, that WANTED to flub the interview. Otherwise, why would I have answered that my greatest weakness was being overly compassionate, mere moments after they explained that one of my duties would be collections, a task that takes a certain bit of backbone. And why would I have off-handedly described myself in one word (is there a worse interview question ANYWHERE?) as “hopeful”. Still, they were very nice, and I thanked them as I left and drove out to the temp job where the day’s final interview was to take place.

Now I’d never before interviewed for a job that I knew up front I wouldn’t accept if it were offered, but it is an experience I now highly recommend if only for the look of utter confusion of the faces of the interviewers as I answered “I’m sure I would be.” to the question, “Do you think you might be bored in this position?”. I let them have their confusion for a full fifteen seconds before I burst out with, “Look, honestly, I’m only here because [my temp supervisor] begged me to at least meet with you, but as you’ve described the job and as you’ve looked over my resume, I think we all know it’s not the right fit.” They were very nice about it. They mentioned the possibility of a more suitable position opening up and I asked them to let me know if it did.

I arrived home Tuesday, exhausted and never ever wanting to wear my stupidly stiff interview clothes again. Two calls came in quick succession that night. The first, from the temp agency, with news of an interview with an Ethanol Company [hereafter EC] I’d been interested in, and the second, a job offer from the Health Care Facility [hereafter HCF] I’d interviewed with that same morning. I impulsively accepted both.

On Thursday, I grudgingly submitted to the background check and piss test for the HCF job. Of all the reasons I could give you for not wanting this job, I suspect, the fact that my maternal grandmother died in this same facility twenty-some-odd years ago is, in and of itself, enough. Still, four months without a real job is three-and-a-half months too long and I cannot turn down a decent gig in hopes of a perfect one.

Early Friday afternoon, I interviewed with a woman from the EC and was granted a second interview, tentatively scheduled for this coming week. This presents a possibly sticky situation, as I am due to start work at the HCF tomorrow morning. Is that everything? Yes, I suppose it is. On the jobby front anyway. I’ll be heading over to the HCF tomorrow morning to start training for the undesirable job, while still trying to figure out how I can squeeze the nail-it-or-not interview for the coveted job into a lunch hour before the end of the week.

There are other things I wanted to mention here. Important things even. But the night is aging and so I’ll leave them for another day. Cross your fingers. And pray I don’t get caught hoarding cards up my sleeve.

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