Ok, so it's a pretty long title. But it sums up the past couple months nicely, I think. We have a house-- sort of. We're waiting on the government to sign off on some special something-or-other that they have to sign off on when someone buys a foreclosed home. Once we get that, we should be closing on the house within 30 days. A week ago, we were told we could expect to have said approval in a week. So far though, nothing. I mean, I understand... government bureaucrats are busy folks, and it's not like they would expect me to respond in a timely manner if they needed something from us... oh, wait... I know that we're probably supposed to be learning some deep lesson in the value of patience from this whole experience, it's just that... I'd rather not. There are plenty of other ways to teach me patience, aren't there? Also, I'm beginning to feel that patience may be just a bit overrated, and would it be so awful to just let me get on with it all now?!
But then I remember that I don't have a job, yet. So even if we do get our approval and close on the house and move in-- how are going to pay bills? So, why don't I have a job yet? I think it's harder to try and be patient about that than it is to be about the house. Why don't I have a job? I applied to work as an order-filler for a warehouse (which shall remain nameless, unless you're my facebook friend, because I named it a few times on there) and didn't get the job. That was a real blow, too. It was the perfect commute, the perfect hours (3:30-midnight-- no need to worry about day care!), and perfect pay. But I didn't get it. The interviewer kept hinting that I didn't have any warehouse experience, but plenty of retail/customer service experience, and maybe I was looking for the wrong type of work, and had I tried seeing if any of the condos/hotels near the beach were hiring? (Never mind that right in front of her was a paper with my work history, and written in plain English under "reason for leaving" my last job at a condo on the beach was my explanation that the commute was awfully long and gas was starting to get a little too expensive. Also, never mind that gas has only gotten more expensive since then.) One of my facebook friends mentioned that maybe I was over-qualified. Which is probably true. It's a warehouse, after all. Not brain surgery. But... who cares? Being over-qualified isn't going to help get the bills paid.
I've lost count of the number of applications I've filled out and resumes I've mailed and e-mailed. So far, I haven't heard back from anyone. This is getting frustrating. So, let me take a moment to address all potential employers: (yes, I understand that the chances of any of them reading this are slim... but, you know, maybe someone will know somebody who knows somebody...)
Dear Potential Employers:
Hello! And good day to you! Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? (Unless it's raining when you read this, in which case: Lousy weather today, huh?) I would like to take this opportunity to tell you that I'm smart. I am also literate, well-read, and almost have an AA in English. I'm a fast typer (65 wpm) and an even faster reader. My entire work history, ever since high school, has involved customer-oriented jobs. I have been a cashier. I have worked a sales floor. I have handled the check-in/out crowds in the middle of July at a condo on the beach. I work great under the pressure of a deadline and enjoy a fast pace. I am competent. I am dependable. Please do not let the fact that I might be over-qualified for the position you're offering scare you away from hiring me. I was raised to believe that when you have bills to pay, no job is beneath you. Please consider me. I, and my family, thank you.
In other news, I've decided to get optimistic and start packing. Not a lot, mind you-- where would we keep all the boxes?-- but I've been putting away some smaller things. Particularly from the kids' room. Mostly because I just cleaned/purged their bedroom and I'm trying to avoid having to do it again before we move! I'd like to start thinking about paint colors, house decorations, and yard projects, but I'm afraid that might be tempting fate just a little too far.
I'm anxious for the day when little pieces of our future begin drifting down, like balloons whose helium has started to leak out, and start falling into place. I'm ready to heave a great sigh of relief when I can see actual, tangible evidence that everything really is going to start coming together. I could also do without these new pesky gray hairs that keep sprouting.
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