|My current co-workers don't know I have plans to change positions.|
I was young, smart, sharp. And I knew for a fact I had the job before I walked through the door. In fact, the interview was purely a formality. The job had been invented for me. I knew I was going to rock it.
And so I did, and my job began.
And then M was diagnosed with brain cancer a few short weeks later, and I resigned to take care of him.
That was the last time I had a job interview.
Since then, I've gained twenty five pounds (it looks worse than it sounds), had three kids, finished my degree, and done... very little that can go on a resume.
In four and a half years, I haven't had to look professional once. 80% of my clothing have tears, rips, stains, paint splotches, or just generally look like they're falling apart. That's because they are. They are LITERALLY sewn together with bits of string, mostly by hand, in my free moments.
This is my wardrobe, people.
But the fact is, I have marketable skills. I have useful experience. I am still a totally awesome choice for pretty much any position in a non-profit- I'm awesome. And I don't have any reservations saying so. See what I did there? You totally want to hire me.
So why am I having a meltdown of doom?
Maybe it was realizing that my "interview clothes" are COMPLETELY inappropriate given my nursing related breast enhancements. Wow, it's not even cool. I mean, I look awesome. but maybe for a nice, romantic dinner. NOT for an interview.
Maybe it was realizing that I have managed to give away or toss out ALL my lipstick in the last three years. Perhaps during the great makeup cull resulting from the nail polish apocalypse. Who knows.
Maybe it was noticing for the first time in a wave of mortality realizing narcissism, "Holy crap I have a wrinkle." I know. It's absurd.
Whatever it was, I am FREAKING OUT.
Do I have pantyhose? No. No I do not.
Do I have an outfit picked out? Sort of. But yeah, it's stitched together by hand in a quick effort to look presentable, and yeah, it's partially held together by safety pins.
I am so nervous I am actually breaking out. That's right, I have a wrinkle AND pimples.
And as I panic harder and faster, as the interview draws nearer and nearer, I keep asking myself...
Is this the right thing to do for my family? For my kids? Is going back to work, now, full time, really what I want?
As though to highlight the sacrifices of childrearing that going back to work entails, my interview is forcing me to miss my kids' preschool's Passover Seder.
I'm actually going to miss something I really care about with my kids, because of work, and I don't have a job yet.
And so, I am panicking. If I didn't have littles all over the place, I would be trying on outfit after outfit, I would be obsessively rechecking my route to and from the interview. I would be putting my head between my knees and hyperventilating.
I know that the job is mine for the taking. I know that. And I also know that if my heart isn't 100% in this, if I don't go in with the confidence that this is a job I WANT, and a job I'm going to GET, I am not getting that job.
T-36 hours and counting.
Wish me luck.