I’m in limbo at the moment. Ever since I got back home from my holiday, things have been up in the air. I stayed with my parents for longer than anticipated because I got another dose of bronchitis (the nastiest one so far–and this is the third time in nine months– and which felt more like the flu but hey, who am I to argue with the doctor) and it’s no fun to be sick and alone. So I stayed with them, in all my snotty, coughing glory for almost two weeks. It was nice, kind of like another holiday. I was sick and didn’t have to be anywhere (no job to go to) so spent my time reading and watching movies.
The job saga continues. Before I went to America, I was working full-time but just temporarily. My boss had offered me two full-time positions and I had turned them both down. A couple of days before I finished up, he really put the pressure on for me to stay (really kind of flattering) and rather than turn him down again, I thought it would be smart for us to have a talk and find out what he had to offer. I’d been home for a week and I was asked if I would be interested in a third job and this time, I said yes.
The job isn’t mine yet though. Someone else in the office is also interested, so it’s between the two of us. I honestly don’t mind if she gets it over me, I personally think she is the better candidate. She has her real estate licence (I don’t) and she has expressed interest in working long-term in real estate (I haven’t). So why did I say I was interested? Why do I feel like I’ve given up too easily on a job that I am really, really keen on?
I think it comes down to money. Maybe if I was still living at my parents’ house, I could hold out a while longer for the perfect job to come up, but I have rent to pay. And a credit card to pay off. And a savings account to build up again. I’m so fucking sick of being broke. (That statement sounds a bit off when I’ve just come back from a three week international holiday, I know. I guess I mean that I’m sick of not having a decent, steady wage coming in rather than a chunk of money here and there and then nothing for a month.)
While I was at uni, whenever people asked me what I wanted to do when I finished, I would tell them I wanted to work in publishing. What that even meant, I don’t really know. Did I want to be an editor? Did I want to be an agent? I didn’t know but the answer seemed to satisfy whoever was asking. I would tell them this because I didn’t have the confidence to tell people I wanted to write and after a few years of trotting that answer out, I began to believe it. I believed I wanted to work in publishing, even though I didn’t really know what that meant.
While I was in New York, I did a lot of thinking about the future. The discussion with my boss was still fresh in my memory, as was the fact that I had applied for eight jobs in the publishing industry and not heard a peep from any of them. And I realised that despite what I had been telling people, as well as myself, over the last three years, I didn’t want an office job. I never have. The point of going to university wasn’t to get into a new industry, it was to help me become a writer (in hindsight, probably not the best course for that outcome but hey ho), not to be an office slave for the rest of my working life.
I want to write books. I want to be an author. A novelist. But until that happens, I still need to make money to live. That damn rent isn’t going to pay itself. A job at my current place of off and on employment makes sense. I’ve been there for three and a half years now, I know all the people and I like them. Most of them. I know the job won’t be incredibly taxing which will leave me enough brain power to keep working on that novel I’m trying to write. It’s a ten-minute drive from home – in heavy traffic. There is a uniform so I wouldn’t have to spend money on work clothes (something I always resented). It’s comfortable. It will pay the bills. It could be worse.
But hey, the job isn’t mine yet. I’ll find out on Wednesday. A yay or a nay, either is fine. If I get it, great. It’s an immediate start so money won’t be far behind. If I don’t get it, that’s completely fine too. It won’t break my heart. I’ll be making an appointment with an employment agency and hopefully get some temp work until something else comes along.
It’s nice to be in a position where either outcome is okay. And it’s nice that by Wednesday, I should be out of limbo. Or, perhaps, thrust into a different stage of limbo. But that’s okay, either way is okay.