New Job New Shoes

I accepted a part-time sales position at the bridal shop. Hey, they called me back almost two months later practically begging. How could I say ‘no’? Okay, really how could I say ‘no’ when rent is due and with thousands of layoffs in the area and virtually no decent jobs available at the moment work needs to be had? I’ve had far more greenbacks outgoing than incoming these past few months, so when I said I’d do most anything, I really did mean anything. I’m sure there are worse things I could be doing. I’m sure I’ve done them already.

Besides, this is just a temporary bandaid to rescue me from my current lack of funds dilemma. I’ve been applying for jobs- “real” jobs - all over the country, as well as outside the country. One job in particular, I think I’m quite interested in. I’m in stage two of the hiring process. The stage where they’ve reviewed my resume and have now asked me to submit some ‘homework’ assignments. I did that and now I wait.

I say I think I am interested in this position because accepting a job is similar to buying a pair of shoes. You see them sitting prettily in the shop window looking very stunning and appealing (that would be the job posting), you inquire about the designer, the materials, and cost (read the job description), you picture yourself wearing the shoes (you envision yourself actually doing the job). You decide ‘yes, these shoes I’d like to try on’ (you apply for the job). You then walk around the store in the shoes, trying them on carpet, on the hardwood floor, determining if you really want them, thinking about outfits and occasions you would wear them with(you go to the job interview and find out as much as you can all the while selling yourself). You take the shoes (accept the job offer) excited about your new purchase. But until you actually wear the shoes for a full day, in your practical everyday walk-a-day life, running for buses and traipsing through the rain, you really can’t tell if the shoes are the right fit.

I have dozens of shoes that haven’t worked out. They are ‘date’ shoes. Shoes I can only wear if a date picks me up from my front door, carries me to the car and drops me off in front of the restaurant while he parks. Minimal, if any, actually walking involved. I rarely wear these shoes. I also have dozens of jobs that haven’t quite worked out. My well-rounded talents and diverse interests are glowing on my lengthy resume, however. I’ve had to start bundling jobs to keep it under ten pages.

I’ve applied to jobs in Chicago, Honolulu, D.C., San Diego for example. My mind begins to race. What if I actually get a job in one of these places? Will I like living there? Do I want to live there? Suddenly my love/hate relationship with Seattle leans more on the love side of the meter. I’ll miss the mountains, the sound, the islands, my great friends, plentiful arts and music scene, restaurants and happy hours. What about my terrific low rent apartment with the spacious balcony and incredible view?

Wait. Am I seriously considering my idiotic apartment in all this? I’ve lost my mind. Anyway, I’m still trying on jobs and haven’t even gotten to the point of having to make a decision. I’m sure if and when I do, it’ll be the right decision. Besides, as my dear brother has previously pointed out, like the shoes I can return to the store, I can always return to Seattle.