Something about windows

There’s a wise old proverb about windows and doors. It’s something to the effect that the universe never closes a door without opening a window first. The hard part about that is though, when the door closes, it’s usually in our face.  And if there’s a window open, it’s probably letting the cold in, while we’re stuck staring at this closed door, fuming in anger at the fact that it is closed. So while we’re focused on our closed door, and getting cold from the draft of the open window, I usually can’t even notice that there’s a window in the room.

When I’m given bad news, I’ve found over the years that I prefer my bad news the same way I like my tea. Strong, but with sugar to sweeten it a bit, and a splash of milk to add a thickness to it. But just because that’s the way I like it, doesn’t mean that’s how it always is. Usually it’s blunt and hard. And usually I let it ruin me, defeat my entire being and purpose. It takes days to bounce back from it.

Lately though, things have become different. Bad things still happen. I’ve noticed though that my reaction to them have been drastically different. My car had been broken into over Christmas, broke out the passenger side window and took my GPS. I didn’t care that they took my GPS, I just hated that it had happened. Usually in matters like this, I hyperventilate and break down sobbing, feeling violated and victimized. This time though I just found myself staring blankly at my car with one word in my head. Fuck. Not fuck in anger. But as in a way that is simply understanding what has happened. The only thing I could think to do was to have the window fixed and not let it ruin my day. So that’s exactly what I did. I had a new window put in within three days. I was not forced to go through my everyday with a constant reminder of what happened to my car. And when it was all over, I couldn’t believe how easy it had been to handle all of it.

A door closed recently. Or, it’s going to soon. At least that’s what I was told yesterday. I knew it was going to close soon. I could feel it. It was just a matter of whether I was going to pull the door knob to shut the door myself, or let the door slam in front of me. So sitting in this little room with a closed door, I’m excited to look around me and see all the possibilities of all the windows. All the places that they will take me. I’m curious to find out what the open windows will make me do, and how it will change my life.

So I think I’ll just get in my car and drive. And feel the breeze from the open windows, waiting to see what they mean and what’s on the other side of the window.

Seriously?!?

Has the job market ever been easy? Every show I watch seems to have a character that is in a pinch, yet they find a job somehow. In weeds, the crazy mom got a job as a maid, while making hash in the Hotel washer. In Dawson’s Creek Jack found a job at the Potter Ice House as a bus boy. In Sex and the City, Carrie found a job working at Vogue. Just like that. No application filling out, no nervous interview. Just a casual conversation, and just like that, the hard and out character now has a job to help them out. Now where in the hell is that job in the sitcom of my life?

I’ve been searching the internet for a job for two whole months. Now believe you me. I know I’m still early in the game compared to some other people. Some people have been jobless for years, with nothing. But I’m not some people, I’m me. I have to find a job. Somewhere. Doing something. I bitched and moaned my way through college to get a degree so that I could actually have a better chance with a good job. Yet here I am.

So this morning I had a job interview. I wasn’t psyched about the job in and of itself, but at this point I’m willing to do just about anything aside from anything that involves me taking my clothes off. The job I was being interviewed for was telephone fundraising for the reelection of Barack Obama. My mother was appalled at the idea of me taking such a job (she’s really not a big Obama fan), and made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone if I got the job… it would be embarrassing. It had been mentioned by a close family member that it would probably be less embarrassing for the rest of the family if I worked at a strip club… so yeah, there’s their views on all that.

To me though it was a job. And it was money I didn’t have, but needed. I had been instructed on the phone to dress business casual, that it was a very relaxed business environment and I should be comfortable. Just the same, I wore my grey Calvin Klein pencil skirt, with a cute dry clean only blue top, and alas my not so very high pumps. I looked good. I knew it. I knew this was a job that I could nail. I’d already started planning out how long I would need to work before I could pay for the things I need (new O2 sensor on my car to make it pass inspection, new titles, etc to have title on my car that is now expired, rent, insurance, so on and so forth) and I was excited knowing I’d be paying for my own things.  I’d also been told when the interview for this job was scheduled that I would find out the day of whether or not I got the job. So I knew I’d be going home with a job. These people needed me and there was no way I wouldn’t get the job.

Yet during the interview I was taken aback by the man’s appearance who was interviewing me. His appearance was less than business casual, I’m not even sure I’d consider it casual. It was more I just woke up, its Saturday morning, I’m hungover and this is what I’m wearing today. I handed him my resume and smiled. I sat there as he went on about coming in tomorrow for a training session where I would be paid for two hours. I was excited. I’d be getting paid. Then he handed me a sheet and asked me to read it out loud. I did as he asked. And then just like that the interview was over. The man explained that there were so many applicants and he just didn’t feel like I was a good fit. But maybe something would come up in a few weeks.

I was furious. I didn’t get the job. I stood up, thanked him and walked out. I’m not proud of this, but I was on the verge of tears. This was a job I was certain I’d had in the bag and thought it would temporarily solve all my problems. I was so defeated. I still had no job.

To top it all off. I’d been denied a job by a guy wearing a Tom Waits tee shirt, and cargo camo pants. What the fuck?

I have to wonder. Has it ever been easy to get a job? In 2006 (before the economy went to hell) was getting a job so much easier than it is now? Or has getting a job always been something that’s hard.