My So-Called J-O-B

The headhunter says the job is mine and that I start on Monday. Huh. Weirdness. I'm not understanding the Universe and the mixed bag of signals its been sending me for the past two weeks, but I guess I'll stop questioning the whole process called LIFE.

So many closed-door H.R. meetings! So many people barging around in a snit, charting things, writing things in my file, having meetings about me, sending off drug tests to two different labs to determine whether or not I have a drug problem! It's just too much to even think about. I know these giant companies have to protect themselves, especially these days--what with the economy all topsy-turvy--but come on! Innocent until PROVEN guilty.

This is going to stress me out! I'll feel like I have to be the best employee they've ever seen, ever. In the history of the company. Or else this last two weeks will have been for NOTHING. Not one thing.

So, I have many mixed feelings about starting this gig. I guess I will just do my best and see what happens. That's all I can do.

But I'm still irritated.

Two Weeks of NONSENSE

This is utterly ridiculous. And I mean UTTERLY.

Two weeks ago I interviewed for a job and was accepted. No problem.

I passed the background check just fine.

I failed the drug test. Big problem.

It was a prescription drug that dinged me. Something my doctor believed would really help (and it has). I got a copy of the prescription. I got a note from my doctor on letterhead.

Not good enough.

Every single day, this company (a drug company, no less!) wants something else, something more; more documents, more pieces of paper, more tests... finally today they got the results from an independent MRO (I believe that stands for Medical Records Officer, or something similar) and just called me to say that someone from "Verification" will be calling me and that I need to answer some questions about this drug: how long I've taken it, blah blah blah.

TWO WEEKS of this nonsense. It's like something out of that awesome movie BRAZIL. I feel like the poor Tuttle or Buttle, or whichever it was, who was killed because of an administrative mistake. I love that movie; it makes my Top Ten easily. I love how the administration makes things so difficult on everyone and the bizarre things the people do to make their lives easier... like put giant magnifying glasses on tiny TV screens so they can see them better, etc. LOVE THAT commentary on desk-jockeys everywhere. The scene where Jonathyn Pryce tries to keep his half of the desk in his office is brilliant.

But a real-life BRAZIL? That I don't like so much.

Crazy hair-splitting freaks who want to make sure they don't get sued for discrimination? Do I really want to work for them? Not really. Do I have a choice in this "economic climate"??? No. I do not.

So, here I sit, frustrated, BLOGGING about my emotions, freaking out a little more every day. Add in to this mix a beleaguered headhunter (who found me) who has a thick Indian accent, and who talks very fast and is incomprehensibe, put a pinch of ass-backwards bureaucratic nonsense tinged with irritation, and you have my daily life for the last two weeks.

I'm tired of this!

And I'm still waiting for the phone to ring.

Maybe I'll blog about this when it's all resolved. I may be employed; I may NOT. If I am, they want me to start TOMORROW.

I don't think so.

More later, if I'm not too irritated.

Some Momentum

FINALLY!

My life is slowly but surely starting to move in a positive direction. IT'S ABOUT TIME! Months, years I've been waiting for movement, and now it's here with a vengeance!

I got a job. Sure, it's just a three-month contract (which could lead to more months or perhaps another job within the same giant company). BUT it gives me solid money for my summer trip to Peru. I wanted to go last year when a friend asked me, but I had no cash. So my friend and I planned for July, 2009, to head to Peru for the trip of a LIFETIME. More details on Peru as I get them....

A literary agent FINALLY wants to read one of my manuscripts. Years I've been writing query letters to agents and editors. Years of postcard rejections. Cold, impersonal. No real person on the other end to give any feedback. Just rejection after rejection from everyone. And now, an excellent agent wants to actually read (and perhaps comment on, or perhaps agree to represent) one of my manuscripts. HALLELUJAH! It will be so much easier to create books with an agent talking to editors instead of me knocking blindly on doors with my little query letters in my hand. Sure, it's just a children's book. That's how I plan to start: small. Then get bigger. And better. And keep learning and upping my game.

This is just the first step in a series of steps.

When I got my acceptance letter last night, I almost threw it away. I could see another impersonal postcard inside the Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope I'd provided. No, I thought. ANOTHER rejection.

The soon-to-be ex-spouse was standing at the kitchen counter eating tacos from Taco Bell. "Just open it," he said.

"It's just another effing rejection," I said. "I'm just gonna toss it."

"Just OPEN it. Don't be a baby," he said.

So I opened it and read, with utter surprise: "...We were pleased to receive the letter describing your book and we invite you to submit the entire manuscript for consideration...."

WOW! It was even addressed to "Dear Author." AUTHOR! Finally someone besides myself is calling me an author. It all feels a bit late in the game, but I'll take it!

"You go, girlfriend," shouted my friend today. "You're getting jobs, talking to agents. Quick, sign something so I can sell it when you get famous! Oh, and buy a lottery ticket. It's your lucky time!"

Meanwhile, things on the B front continue to improve. My heart is not the same, though, and that influences my head (of course) and while I'm happy to be communicating again, I'm not over the moon like I was. Things are in perspective. FINALLY.

Momentum is good. Good-bye to sprawling on the bed watching hours of Law & Order, petting the cat, folding laundry, poking around the house, reading books, writing in my journal. Hello, momentum!

I might just go buy that lottery ticket.