Determination (or F The Ides)

I’ve reached the halfway point of March — those dreaded Ides of March — and I should feel a sense of panic, as the end of my severance pay nears with every tick of the clock. I’ve had a couple of interviews, one of which was clearly questionable, and I don’t have any job offers yet.

One of the interviews was clearly for a questionable job, well outside my bailiwick as a B2B salesperson. Plus, it was over in Troy, so the commute and extra mileage on the car wasn’t a good fit. But I’m actually feeling pretty confident, despite that block; when I went into the interview I realized I’m a good guy and a darn good catch, and that sort of understanding can only help me in the long run as I zero in on the right job. It certainly helped with the other interview I had early last week, and which is being followed by what the employer is calling a “final” interview tomorrow. I’ve also got a followup with another company later in the day, so I think things are looking up.

The only downside to everything is how much spam keeps showing up in my mailbox, so much so that I actually have to look through it for “real” mail, like email from both of tomorrow’s potential employers.

The first interview tomorrow is outside my bailiwick as well, but I’m not the same person I was at the beginning of the year. I can’t be the same person. When life hands you lemons, when you get knocked down, the clichéd responses are the only way to respond. Otherwise you’re apt to go crazy.

An upside to these changes is that I was able to go to a movie for the first time in probably a decade without worrying about a pager call. My old job had me carrying a phone to field after hours calls, and it’s a relief not dealing with the stress involved with always being on the clock. Even though I could handle the problems that arose, there was this sense that there was always someone out there in the world who might be angry with me just because they weren’t having a good day. That I was there to help them, and turn those frowns, wasn’t enough because when shit hits the fan you’ve got shit all over the place. Even after things are cleaned up, the customer still knows what happened and a polished turd is still a turd.

I’m done with shit. :-)

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About stephenwnagy

writer, father, husband. not necessarily in that order.
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