Wednesday, September 9

Burying my feet

I had two job interviews last week, my first interviews since I began looking for a job four months ago. They went well enough, but I'm not ecstatic about working for either newspaper and yet I feel obliged to choose one.

Let's compare them before I plunge into the issue of WHY I MUST WORK FOR ONE OF THEM. To protect their identity, and my chance at employment, I shall call the two newspapers the Hoosier Inquirer and the Gouda Gazette.

  • smaller town so I'd feel more comfortable
  • not as sports-minded as the Gouda Gazette
  • closer to home
  • similar location to the one I've lived in for 22 years
  • less pay, same amount of work (perhaps more)


  • prettier locale, far different than the one I've lived in for 22 years
  • better, larger newspaper
  • more responsibility, not sure I'm ready
  • differences in goals among the editors and the executive editor
  • job isn't secure; the guy who is on a longterm disability leave could return, though they don't anticipate that happening
  • city has a huge Catholic population (yes, it can be a reason)
  • city has a huge sports following. Me? Not so much.

Basically, I don't think I'm ready or that I have the skills required to work for the Gouda Gazette. I've been told by former co-workers and bosses that this feeling is ridiculous, that I am qualified. It's wonderful to hear, but the nagging doubt remains.

My gut feels like it's being chewed whenever it's quiet in the house or in the car. I don't let this happen now. I cling to music in a new, desperate way because if there's silence I think, and when I think there's nausea.

I need one of these jobs because it's a step and my life needs direction. Getting a job seems like a small, single event but it isn't. It will re-establish a daily routine. I think my current unhappiness stems from not having that. I feel paralyzed now. I don't want to renew my library card or open a video rental account because I could be moving at any point. Same thing goes with joining clubs, resuming volunteer work, making friends, making plans to go out with friends. I hate it when people ask what I'm doing the next weekend or the next month because I honestly don't know. I get a jolt in my stomach and I don't know how to answer, because I could still be here or I could be moved in a new place five hours away. I usually stutter out one of these responses:

Sure, if I'm still around? That sounds like I'm dying.
Yeah, OK, maybe. That sounds like I'm uninterested.
I'll have to see ... Makes me sound like an ass.

I just want to fast forward a month so all the decisions have been made for me. Surely that's not too much to ask.

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