Who here is applying for jobs? Doesn't it seem so FUTILE? Submitting tailored cover letters to companies that keep posting advertisements and then ignoring the responses; filling in your information on website forms even though you already submitted your resume with all that information; taking baseless assessments on job listing sites to better your chances at... not being contacted?
And that's just the regular rigmarole. We're job searching in a friggin' pandemic! It's demoralizing, honestly. After a handful of sincere job applications with beautifully formatted cover letter attachments, each specific to the job I was applying for, I realized how pointless it all felt. I started typing cover letters off the cuff in the little text box provided on the websites. Allowing my fed-upedness to shine through, signing off two-sentence CLs with, "I don't like wasting time, mine or yours, so I'll leave it at that."
I figured, maybe someone out there likes to cut through BS, too, and they'll contact me and offer me a job and then my encompassing dread about finances, health, the future, insecurity, depression and general misery will disappear. After applying to a handful of legal assistant, office manager, data entry, document formatting or whatever the F administrative jobs; I realized that the only reason I was continuing to do so was to avoid those above-listed dreadful feelings. There was nothing positive about the process, nothing exciting, no ideas of fulfillment or achievement. It was all, "If I have a full time job I'll have security in my life and therefore won't have dread or fear." What a life.
Eventually, I found a listing for a full-time, with benefits (!) art gallery assistant position with a small gallery in an ideal location. There’s that gold all those people came to California for! I applied immediately but without much attention or effort, thinking “this is too good to be true”-type thoughts and fully believing I’d submit my application and never hear about it again. Lo! What wondrous event ere I was contacted the next day by a super friendly woman who was easy to chat with over the phone and even had a similar background story to mine, having moved from the DC area to CA years before. My in-person interview was scheduled for the next day. I was feeling excited, hopeful. I went for a test drive in Kyle’s giant sedan to make sure I was comfortable driving again (I haven’t had a car or driven regularly in 6 years); no problemo. Printed out a couple copies of my resume with supplemental information about my art-related experience I hadn’t bothered to include in my application, hopped in the car and headed to my interview.
Just kidding, I made Kyle drive me because I was NERVOUS.
But the interview went great. I had an answer to all the questions, I was able to relate to the owner and found her to be inspiring and someone I would get along with. They asked if I would be able to come in the next day for a trial day, paid, to make sure we all fit together well. Of course! Awesome! How exciting! Once I prove to them how great I’ll be at this job, it’ll be a sure thing and I’ll lose the dread and fear and guilt and anxiety and all that!
Well. Imagine my surprise when upon waking the next day, I felt all that same dread and fear and guilt and anxiety. I passed it off as jitters, put on the outfit I’d picked the day before, hopped in the car and drove off (for real! I have now driven on my own on California highways! As such I must now adopt the California-ism of attaching “the” to numbered road descriptions. THE 405! The 55! I’m a Californian!).
All told, the day went really well. There were a few hiccups, nothing major; just typical first-day stuff like nerves and hot gallery lighting making your butt cheeks sweat through your pants. Overall, I was confident that I would be a great addition to the staff there.