Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A couple months ago, while I was still in the depths of depression, a stranger gave me a gigantic self-esteem boost when I needed it most. My mother told me of a coworker of hers that might want piano lessons for his six-year-old daughter. So I dropped by the office to meet with him. We talked for several moments, discussed my teaching methods, I heard stories about his adorable little girl, and then we reached an agreement and I headed home. Apparently, he made a trip into my mother's office afterwards, and told her just how impressed he'd been by me. That I was professional and charismatic, and after meeting with me for ten minutes, he can't understand why I'm still unemployed. And that he couldn't imagine that lasting very long, because, in his words, "sooner or later, someone's going to snap her up."
Those words were like a tonic for me for over a month. It meant so much to have a total stranger say such kind things, not only about me as a person, but me as a hirable professional (since that's the inherent problem at the moment.) I held onto those words for dear life.
Now, things are finally looking up. I expanded my horizons in terms of employment, as I mentioned before. I want to stay in music, but I may have to get creative and plan long-term in order to do it. So my new standard? Any job that won't make me smell to high heaven.
I know. Weird standard. But I worked in food service for my grandparents growing up. Believe me: fry grease seeps into your very pores, and pizza sauce stains everything you own. It takes months to get the smell out. You go home not feeling human, and go back to work the next day knowing you're going to be in the same place when you return home that night.
So I've applied mostly for clerical positions. A little retail. And the adjunct position I want so badly. Right now, I have (or have already had) interviews for four positions. The first is part-time at a wine-tasting room. The second? Macy's. The third is the adjunct position. But the fourth is with the local four-star hotel. It's sort of funny to think about, because I'm getting the distinct feeling of "being snapped up." With any luck, I'll have a job by the end of the month.
Crossing my fingers and praying, anyway.
The most exciting part is that I'm moving towards getting a place to live. I had to pause in writing this because the property management firm called to tell me that I can see the duplex rental I really liked tomorrow. And since they'll want proof of income, my mother has agreed to co-sign so we can get it before it goes off the market.
In other words? My plan might actually be working.
It's so exciting, I can't keep myself from smiling. I know that things may not work out, and that it will be hard -- heck. The duplex won't be available until October, so I could have an hour and a half commute for as much as a month. But I can do that! (And it's still cheaper than rent.) But I'm getting the feeling of knowing where I'm going. And feeling success instead of beating my head against the wall and hoping the brick cracks before my skull does.
And in the meantime, I'm taking small steps to re-establish some of the healthy habits I've lost ground on. And it's about time, because I'm achy and slow and heavy again. And that's irritating as hell. But I'm taking it slow and making it a happy development instead of one that causes me stress.
Altogether? I'm pulling myself up by the bootstraps and making something happen.
You know, it's funny. I was going to write about something completely different today. But this works.