The (Mis?)Adventures of a Perpetual Job-Hunter/Job-Hater

My apologies for the extended absence, folks.

I’m still here, searching for the perfect career. I have to admit, though, that lately I’ve been “slumming it” with respect to the positions I’ve been applying for. I know, I know, what happened to the enlightened career-searcher who wrote with such gusto about being selective in the application process? She’s long gone, it seems. My 26th birthday is just around the corner, and the fact that I’m still indulging in these job-searching shenanigans exceedingly depresses me. But I can’t reconcile myself to the fact that I make as little money as I do… doing so much damn work, by the way! So I feel like I have no choice but to “slum it” (and I should probably qualify this term here – what I mean is applying for positions that are not aligned with my interests and do not present an opportunity for me to use my strengths/talents, hence preventing me from securing a self-fulfilling career) because apparently I can make more money slumming it. And I dunno, am I not slumming it now? Yeah, sure, I have an English background, so an editorial job seems like an ideal fit. But it’s a boring and eggregiously low-paying, low-level editorial position… could I really slum it any harder than this? Haha, I don’t know. But seriously, I feel like I’m so far away from attaining an actual career… it’s not that funny.

Would someone out there just offer me a job already? Please?

So, naturally, being the firm believer in education that I am, I’m considering returning to school so that I can transition into the right career for me. I’m so conflicted, though, since I’m a broke-a$$ joke as it is – what, with my low-level editorial job and all – and shelling out thousands of dollars for tuition and other school-related expenses would be a major setback. I want to live a grown-up life with my husband – I’d like us to travel, buy a house, have children in the near future, etc. All of these grown-up things require grown-up money, unfortunately, so as much as I’d like to be a student again… I feel like my time has passed. And it sucks because I was at my most content, my most self-fulfilled, my most intellectually challenged and stimulated as a student… despite the fact that grad school was so incredibly overwhelming and definitely beat the hell out of me with all of the harrowing demands on my intellect, my resilience, my writing skills, and my time management skills, it was an experience that made me better.

Being a perpetual student should be a lucrative endeavour. Life would be grand. So grand.

So my miracle didn’t come. The internship is a complete disappointment. Indeed, it’s refreshing to write, but there’s something really off about the environment. The editor is fantastic, but she’s just about the only person I enjoy. I’m so utterly disappointed… and I feel like an utter disappointment

I give up now. I think I’m at the point where I just need to find a job that is bearable… a  job that I can commit to, which doesn’t necessarily entail falling in love with it. Legal publishing DEFINITELY ISN’T the industry for me, and I’ve accepted that… but that’s just about the only thing I’m sure of at this troubling standstill. Yet again, it’s back to the drawing board for the perpetual job-hunter/job-hater… it’s getting old. Really old.

… but they occurred to me at work, so they deserve to be featured on this blog.

-I wore mismatched socks today, along with pants that are on the slightly-too-short-for-cold-weather side… you know, the kind of pants that you can pull off in the summer, paired with cute ballet flats… and NOT with the low-cut sneakers I quickly threw on this morning, which exposed said mismatched socks. In the professional appearance category, how much of a point deduction do you think the mismatched socks/sorta too short pants/low-cut sneakers combo got me? I’d say I suffered a pretty big point deduction. Pretty big. I should also mention that my right sock, in perfect congruence with my sorta too short pants, was a little too small and kept rolling down my heel… exposing said heel now and then during my stride.

-I went to the bathroom 9 times today. 9. Yup. (You’ll have to read a previous blog post of mine to get the full back story on my “bathroom breaks”.)

-I literally said a prayer this morning asking God to prevent me from experiencing the nauseating dizziness that I had to endure during the first two days of the “three days of darkness”. My prayer was semi-answered: I only experienced minimal, fleeting diziness today. I am grateful.

-I must be the worst “new girl” ever: it’s only week 3 for me at the new job and already I left an hour and 45 minutes earlier than I was supposed to. TWICE. That’s a record… even for me.

-On my way to the car after my work day was finally and mercifully over, I heard someone’s footsteps frantically quickening behind me in the dark parking lot… I thought the owner of the ominous footsteps was going to stab me. Of course, she was only hurrying to her car to get the hell out of there. Duh. Clearly, I am a wussy.

Even though I genuinely meant to, I haven’t blogged in the last little because I was just too busy trying to survive what I’d like to call “the three days of darkness”… and let me tell you, it was a tall order. This Monday-Wednesday schedule is absolutely killing me. I’m physcially manifesting my job-related misery, people.  Yes, misery… I went there and called it that, I called it what it is. I did warn you that my “like” for this job would probably wane, and it has… at an accelerated rate that even I didn’t predict. Please don’t be disappointed in me.

The physical symptoms of this misery include ghastly paleness, shivering, prolonged dizziness. It’s sickening. Technically I’m supposed to work from 7 am to 6:30 pm, but I could only survive until 5:15-ish the past two days (strageically leaving just 15 minutes after my supervisor left for the day to ensure that I didn’t run into her in the lobby). The only reason I deviated from that plan of action today is because there’s an editor here who’s scheduled to work until 6. Kill me now. Kill us both, I guess! This is un-freakin-bearable.

You know what, though? I have no one to blame but myself… and the physical ailments I’m experiencing? Well, I’m getting my just deserts, I guess. Why? Because I knew what I was getting myself into. I had a job identical to this one just 6 six months ago… there was a reason why I left… because I loathed it. I loathed the dry material, I loathed the absence of opportunities for growth, I loathed the redundance, I loathed the silence, I loathed EVERYTHING except two co-workers who kept me sane. The only difference here is that the department doesn’t seem to be saturated with sycophants who are actually rewarded for their shameless sycophantism. At the same time, though, everyone is so closed-off, I just could be missing something. So why the hell did I come back to this?!? Bad habits die hard, I guess.

This internship… I have high hopes for this internship. This internship needs to save my life. It NEEDS to get me on a career path that I’ll be content to traverse… it needs to get me a job that I love, one that doesn’t make me feel like ripping my hair out with every minute that passes by. I nearly sob aloud at the sight of every new stack of proofs that arrives on my desk for me to mark up. I’m downright sick of this. Seriously, though, I have no one to blame but myself. I’ve invested (wasted is probably the more accurate word to use) way too much time acquiring experience in an industry that doesn’t interest me whatsoever. Now that I’ve decided to invest my time and effort more fruitfully, I’m hoping for a miracle here… I’m hoping this internship  gets me out of the cycle of job-related misery… because I’m truly beginning to lose hope.