No news is good news, they say.
When you are waiting to hear about a job, no news is depressing, exasperating, and in your growing cynicism, bad news. I have applied to jobs to never hear back at all, I've applied to jobs and waited a month to get a first interview, and I've had interviews and waited three months to get a rejection letter in the mail with an address label in Comic Sans. When you've applied to as many jobs as I have, rejections start to lose their gravity. Everything in life kind of sucks when you are unemployed and poor and then you get used to having things go wrong. You keep reminding yourself that people without any problems don't have interesting memoirs (thought people who are sitting on the couch watching Netflix and eating peanut butter off a spoon don't make for interesting memoirs either). So you wait for a phone call or an e-mail until you give up. You drag yourself out of bed at noon and you pick out new jobs and start writing new cover letters, even though you've been doing it for months and you are out of inspiration. It isn't devastating to give up anymore, it's just part of the process.
But then your phone rings and it's a local number, not a bill collector after your late student loan payments, and you answer it. You thought it might be the bank telling you that you have an overdrawn account, but it's the guy who interviewed you asking if you can come in for a second interview. I gave up on trying to hide my excitement when people are offering me work or interviews or a free drink. My small animal like exuberance has become part of my charm, I think. I say yes and I accept an interview for hardly more than 24 hours from the time of the call and I start planning out how my life will improve.
I bring my small animal exuberance to the interview and nervously rotate slightly back and forth in the chair while I answer questions and hope that I'm answering them correctly. Once I realize that I am exhibiting nervous behaviors like chair rotating, filler words, and possibly eye twitching, I try to get zen. People often comment that I'm a very zen person. I make it through the interview and, again, all there is to do is wait.
Not pretending to be you, or that you are me, after I finished the interview, I drove out Thane and found a place to park along the rocky beach and, still in my interview clothes, I delicately (and slowly) stepped down the boat ramp to the beach and sat on a rock, staring at the channel.
C and I went out to dinner at one of the fancy restaurants in town, in part because we hadn't gone out for my birthday, but also as an optimistic celebration of a potential job. The next day I stayed in bed too late as usual, took too long to figure out how to waste a day, and luckily got asked to help out at a friend's shop. In the mid afternoon, I got a phone call from a local number (not a bill collector) and answered it. Small animal exuberance returned as I repeatedly expressed my excitement and accepted a job offer. No news was good news.
Except now all news is good news because I'll be in the business of news. And the best news is that I will get to use my creativity and my connections, and that I'll be in a business in which pointing out grammatical errors is welcomed.