Work Forced

Or alternately punnily "Workfarce."

So, after how many months of unemployment (September, October, November, December, January...wow) I finally got an interview somewhere I was intrigued by. I initially sent my resume to Le Book but apparently I wasn't a correct fit. Three hours later I received an email from somewhere completely different. They said they had received my resume and were very interested in meeting for a PR Assistant opening.

Now PR Assistant is not my dream job by any means, but it is work that comes easily for me. Reading over the duties I saw I had done everything on the list and was possibly overqualified for the job. I let myself bask in dreams of advancing in the Lifestyle and Marketing department of this large company who had recruited me. That's right, they wanted me. I imagined the benefits I'd receive, finally freeing me from the ridiculous cost of my COBRA insurance that is about to expire anyway. Sure I am working on a novel (ugh...that looks so douchey written out, but I really am, at least I didn't say "working on my novel" that's worse) but there is time for that and I could do it at night. Just be extra disciplined, right? My boyfriend was so happy for me he said he would take me out to a romantic celebratory dinner that night and promised to score us a table somewhere special.

I DJed the night before the interview but thankfully it was scheduled for 3:30 so I had plenty of time to prepare. I told my boyfriend he wasn't allowed to spend the night that night so I could be ready. I wanted to be focused goddamnit, at the top of my game and was willing to sacrifice any amount of snuggling to do it. I woke up early (for me) and made myself breakfast. Upon returning to my bedroom, hearty bowl of farina with apples and cinnamon in my hand I saw I had a missed call and a new voicemail. It was from the woman who was to interview me saying she wanted to touch base with me before I came in. I called her back and got her voicemail so I proceeded to try on four different outfits determined to look perfect.

Finally I found something that had the right mix of current and conservative (PR is a bitch to dress for when it comes to interviews...to show tattoo or no tattoo...that is the question.) Confident, and having received the thumbs up from my roommate I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when my phone rang.

It was her, my savior, my job prospect. She had just gotten out of a meeting when she'd first called me. The job she wanted to see me about no longer existed due to budget cuts. She was going to fight for it to be reinstated but didn't want to waste my time in the meanwhile.

That was it. Twenty minutes before I was set to leave my house. No more interview. No more job. At least I can't feel too rejected, I didn't get a job that doesn't exist. But damn.