I have been sitting in my room for a while thinking of how I was going to write this post. Actually, I have been thinking about it all day long, but all that comes to mind is “I did it.”
My day started out like any other; I was running late. I was thinking, “maybe today will be the day I find out,” while sprinting half a mile uphill in the morning breeze with my hair flowing all kinds of different directions (that I would not take time to fix), while my roommate texts me asking me to get something from the house for her. I was really tired. My alarm woke me up in the middle of a dream, and you know how terrible you feel when you wake up in the middle of dream. That REM sleep will get you every time.
As I always do, I trip on the sidewalk that seems to have risen that exact second in attempt to say a big screw you, as the bird that I swear remembers me goes on attack. {{I think Sadie got too close to his nest one time, and every.single.time. that dang bird swoops and caws at me, and gets terrifyingly close. Note to all: I HATE birds.}} Then I get an email, “Do you have some time to talk to me this morning?” Stomach drops. Anticipation rises. I get nervous and excited all at the same time.
As I mentioned above I didn’t take the time to to brush back my hair when I got into the office. I was wearing my glasses and going for the whole “disheveled-librarian-who-is-wearing-a-black-dress-but-her-skin-is-peeling-from-a-sun-burn-so-it-looks-like-she-has-dandruff” look.
I had interviewed for two positions at the work place last week and had a final interview for one of them last Thursday. I had spent days waiting, stressing, picking off all my nail polish, being ignored by everybody in the office, napping all weekend just to pass the time, and all I wanted to know was “yes” or “no.”
My meeting was pushed back twenty minutes, and though my insides were screaming horrible terror, my outside portrayed what I want to tell you was cool, calm and collected, but you had just read the above description of my look fit for a Vogue magazine cover. It might not have been cool, calm and collected, but it was passable.
Then it was time. Judgement day. My old boss, who I was hoping was going to become my new boss (again) was sitting in the chair across from me. I cross my arms over my stomach trying to sit up straight, but just wanting to slump into my chair in a fit of tears. I don’t know what kind of tears. I just know I felt like crying. I don’t remember what reaction I gave, what my face looked like or even if it showed any emotion at all. To be honest I can’t remember the exact words boss man said, all I remember is that I got a job. A real job. The Grassroots Communications Coordinator job. The job that has an office with a window. The job that has a desk top AND lap top computer. The job that has a salary. The job that has benefits. The job that has PTO. (That is paid time off for all you novices out there.) A real job. THE type of job that I moved up from North Carolina to get.
The first thought that came to mind was, “It’s freaking Tuesday. Everything happens to me on Tuesday.” Then it was, “I would be the only person to think of that the millisecond after she gets offered a full-time job.” Then “do I get to go to Right Online?” I might have even interrupted the HR Director in the middle of her speech about benefits to ask that question… My mind was everywhere. Finally, they stopped talking, and my body was able to functionally process shock.
I shook boss mans hand, but fled the scene before HR Director could even reach out her hand. I was certain I was going to collapse in a fit of tears and shakes if I didn’t get to my roommates office STAT. Once I got there, I am pretty sure I let out a few jumps that were more like feeble bunny hops. My mind was going a million miles a minute. It was as if sensory overload hit me at the speed of light.
I went and done got myself a big girl job in Washington DC.
