What doesn't kill you…

…can still make a real mess out of your room.  Picture it, not at all Pinteresque or clean.  Every surface is covered with bits of wardrobe, casualties of my manic quest to piece together a faintly professional outfit.  We're not even talking interview material ― just 'presentable'.  Interview will be a whole different post.

I had a meeting a few weeks back with a helpful gentleman who looked over my résumé and offered some job hunting advice.  This was lovely of him.  And it is not his fault that I came away feeling bewildered, because that is where I live these days.  Among other questions, he asked, "If you cannot get any editing work or writing work or administrative work, what kind of job would you want instead?" and honestly, I don't know.  Banking?  Web Design?  Underwater Welding?

I imagine there are lots of jobs I am qualified to do (or, let's be honest, qualified to learn how to do), but it's hard to find them.  I spend hours searching, until I feel like I've clicked every link and visited every job site and Googled every keyword. 

 

This is it, I think blearily, I've reached the End of the Internet.

 

I struggle to find my footing here.  Few editing jobs call for less than four years experience, but I need work to get experience.  Someone told me that I should have more confidence in the way I present myself, but he didn't mean a general confidence in my ability to do a good job and figure things out.  Rather, this is supposed to be the sort of confidence that allows you to say, with emphasis, "These are the things I do, these are the good results I have produced, and this is the kind of job I want (complete with appropriate job title, i.e. Assistant Manager of Bowling Ball Juggling)."  But specifics also come from experience. 

I have been told to be careful "not to get myself locked into a bad cycle" and to "aim for jobs that will contribute to your long-term goals" and that "it's all about who you know: networking is key." 

Networking.  Cue the introverted paralysis.  I have extroversion in me, but put me in a room full of professional people and tell me to "go forth and network!", and my inner recluse will peer through the peephole and sadly inform you that Sarah is unavailable for duty, on account of being dead.

But I know that even when the internet ends, the people still have ideas.  So out the door I go.  I dress respectably (hence the wardrobe carnage) and attend a networking lunch.  I introduce myself and make conversation.  Don't get me wrong, it's not all paper cuts soaked in lemon juice.  For it to be all bad, the people would have to be all bad, and they're not.  Still, there is a lurking thought that the point of being here is to make contacts, which leaves me clammy and nervous and unlike myself.  It also skews the expectations.  Networking-on-purpose feels like a constant, unfocussed interview because each person wants to hear my elevator pitch.

Referring back, it's difficult to have an elevator pitch if you don't know exactly what job you're hoping for.  I attempt a pitch anyway.  I try to be confident, but stop short of lying; to be polished, but conversational ― and it's not impressive.  I finish my best effort…....

Man I am Talking To: "One thing you might consider doing is composing a short description of the work you've done and the kind of job you want; have you ever heard of an elevator pitch?"
 

Oh dear.  Wasn't that what I just gave you?  Apparently not.  Okay, okay, Sarah, no time for self-recrimination ― time to roll with it.

Me: (ruefully) "Yes, I have!  It would seem I … don't have one."

Him: (agreeing seriously)  "No, you don't."

Rimshot.  Fair enough.

 

 

Fortunately, as I'm about to leave in disgrace, my networking reputation is salvaged:

A man, who is older than my father, asks me out.  On a date.

 

I am no closer to having a job,

but it would seem the outfit is a winner. 

Or something.

Score.

What is the take-home lesson here?  Surely there is something redeeming to pull out of the awkward!  I need a moral, and I need it now before this blog post gets too long.
 

How about:

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it. 

There's more than one way to skin a cat. 

Prayer is always a good idea. 

A life lived in fear is a life half-lived. 

Platitudes are trying to the soul. 

And hopefully, what doesn't kill you…

…makes you stronger.

 

The Perks of Unemployment

{lunch break}

I'm not being facetious ― they exist.  Granted, I have this background static always fizzling away: you need a job… bills don't pay themselves… maybe you should rewrite your résumé… again… you should be networking somewhere… there are want-ads to check, websites to peruse, companies to research… it's not a joke, you really DO need a job, you know…  It gets louder the longer I'm unemployed.  But if I can twiddle the knob and talk over it, there are definite perks.

For example, job hunting, while not unlike a work schedule (by which I mean: you have to put in solid hours or there will be no results) is at least a schedule whose parameters are set by me.  If I want to do something in the evening, I get up early to do my hunting, or vice versa.  I like to do most of my work when Chloe works, so we can run our errands or hang out together when she gets home. 

When the desk and computer seem a mincing step away from medieval torture, I can take a break.  When you're in an office, I imagine it's tougher to find a good spot for yoga or fresh air or tea.  I like to wear comfy clothes and play the Wicked soundtrack in German.

Unemployment is giving me a chance to really get plugged in at my new church.  I'm attending McLean Presbyterian Church for morning service, and then in the evening I go to Harvest, MPC's group for young people.  It's well-attended, since, well… DC.  I lived too far from my old church to volunteer much.  Now that church is only a ten minute drive away, I'm trying to build some good participation habits.  I've signed up to help with communion and sound at Harvest, and to attend a luncheon at the church for the Senior Saints ministry.  Hopefully by the time a work schedule asserts itself, I'll already be trained up and it'll be easy to keep volunteering.

Getting to know new friends is easier when we only have to work around one person's schedule.  Unemployment is a good lack of framework for grabbing coffee or lunch in the middle of the day. 

Chloe and Dan are leaving for Europe in a week, and I'll be home alone (cue "I'm *dub dub* dreaming… of a white *dub dub* Christmas…!").  I intend to spend as little time as possible unoccupied.  Let me know if you want to hang out!  I've already made plans with a few people.  It's easier to put in good work when you know have something to look forward to on your break.

Finally, the biggest perk of all (this is just for me ― sorry, fellow job hunters): I get to go see my family this week.  A spontaneous beach trip is happening!  I wasn't sure I'd be able to get the time off if I was employed by now, but when the job is to find a job, you are your own boss.  I asked if I could go, and I said yes.

Pass the Want Ads and the sunscreen.

Résumé Angst

{at least I have an awesome mug for company}

Want Ads.  Job Hunting.  Résumé Writing.  Cover Letters.  None of it is as exciting as it sounds.

These days I talk to myself a lot.  It's a byproduct of going from a constantly-occupied house to one that I share with only two other people.  On days when Chloe and Dan are both at work, it's just me.  Well, me and my plants.  We have excellent conversations, don't get me wrong!  But when they end, I have that awkward feeling, like you always do when you walk away from a friend and realize… you totally did all the talking.

Most often, when I talk to myself, I'm reminding myself of things.  This is necessary because I have Dory-level short-term memory issues. 

I forget that I really don't want to work retail or be a nanny again, and that's why I'm applying for jobs that aren't on my résumé.  I forget that, with my quirky skill-set, there was no good way to apply for work long-distance, and that's why it was better to move first and look for work after.  I forget that my small home town wasn't exactly sparkling with job opportunities.

I forget all that, and turn on myself viciously, demanding, "WHOSE LUNATIC IDEA WAS THIS?!  Leave home?  Move to a new city with no job?  WHO DOES THAT?"  The answer, of course, is me.  I do that.  Apparently.

So I soothe myself with tea and comforting reassurances that I did think before I leapt.  I over-thought it, if I'm honest.  Rather like I'm doing now, with my résumé.

I can't seem to find the good balance between 'self-confident' and 'bragging', 'positive' and 'fulsome', or 'salesmanship' and 'honesty'.  I've reverted to my old college essay-writing habits; I only write cover letters between midnight and 3am.  That's when my brain is lax enough to string sentences together without second-guessing every syllable.

Yesterday, in a fit of faintly hysterical whimsy, I actually drew up an entire fake résumé, just for the satisfaction of saying whatever I wanted.  It's funny that, once I read it over, I still had no idea who would hire such a person.

 

Here's the brilliant thing, though: people keep appearing at my elbow like benevolent fairies, making suggestions of work I might enjoy, or mentioning openings they've heard about, or offering to hand-deliver my résumé to their friends.  It is gratifying, because it makes me feel more sure of myself and more welcome in their midst.  It is also incredibly humbling, because they don't actually know me yet.  I can take no credit for their generocity, nor offer anything in return.

The job hunt is ongoing, and I'll take all the prayers and help I can get.  But leave it to God to pull this off: one minute I'm fretting and kvetching over my work history, and the next I'm falling headfirst into unexpected grace.