In previous posts, here and there, I made vague references to an incredible job opportunity that made its way into my lap.
Okay, so maybe “vague” is a slight understatement.
To be fair, I didn’t want to go into too much detail or tell too many people about it, because that would mean going back to all those people and providing updates. Which normally, I’m really happy to do – but it was just such a bad time. So, I kept it vague and I tried not to think about it.
I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have anything else going on in my life…just writing a seminar paper, performing research for my term papers/oral presentations, and getting ready for LAK’s wedding. Also the sudden out-of-the-blue driving test (which I failed, BTW), and the ever-present continuation of hunting for a job.
Needless to say, I had what to distract me with. But it wasn’t easy.
It was a real struggle to focus on anything other than this job opp. I constantly questioned my self worth, and worried if I would make the right decision, and freaked out. A LOT.
There were lots of elements of my life that suffered during this time – to the point where I wasn’t able to do much else except yell in order to handle the stress. I was too
panicked stressed freaked (there is no word to adequately describe what I was feeling). In my mind, there was no other acceptable alternative outlet for the confusion, disorder, chaos, and panic.
So, this is an apology to those whom I may have annoyed, pissed off, ignored, offended. While I cannnot say that my behavior during the past month-and-a-half wasn’t warranted, and I was validated several times by the people who know me best, I was aware enough to know that I was definitely not myself. This fact was also pointed out to me on numerous occasions, also by the people who know me best.
For events that I may have missed, or for things I said that I shouldn’t have, or for the crazy I was handing out like candy on Halloween, or for some other reason that I neglected to mention, or for all of the above – I am sorry.
I feel more like myself now, and I hope that I never have to go through something like that again. Or, if I do, that I am better able to handle it. Or, that I continue to have amazing friends to help me get through it.
*breath* Okay. Onward and upward.
I went to the Opera House three times in the span of 10 days. Each time, I had to psych myself up to open the main door and not vomit immediately upon entering. On the return trip home each time, I rambled on the phone to the Hubby for a good 40 minutes, which did not help in the least but was still necessary.
The first time was to present myself (I guess) as a candidate for the job opp. I waltzed on in with my best smile, slathered in confidence and bouncing with excitement; I walked out with a phone number and email address, and butterflies in my stomach. Contact was made later that day, and a CV was exchanged. The interview was scheduled for the following week.
The second time I stately walked in and patiently waited for a few minutes. I was warmly received by the head of HR, and the appreciation was mutual. The butterflies had been replaced by stomach acid, and my heart was beating like a brass band.
I was interviewed by the same HR guy, who was very forthcoming with any and all information available to him, not only about this job but also working at the Opera House in general.
As the interview progressed, I realized that he wanted me to make the right choice, too. To my surprise, he didn’t want me to choose the job over my family and/or religion, despite my apparent willingness to do just that. Because, despite the fact that asking these types of questions are the norm in Israel interviews, and despite the increasing belief that there is global discrimination regarding family status and religion when applying for jobs, some positions in certain fields really do require you to put those things on the back burner. And therefore, they must be discussed in detail.
He understood that; he understood that this is not the easiest field to work in on a good day, and that I really, really, REALLY wanted to work there anyhow.
It was kind of obvious. The desire to be employed by the Opera House was literally on my face, and my sleeve. When we took a tour of the offices I happened upon my reflection in the elevator mirror and said to myself, “I look like Lucy when she first entered Narnia. I look like I’m dreaming.”
So, after the tour, when we were back in his office, he gave me the low-down. And the further low-down. He made it his mission to give me as many details as possible. For he could tell that I had no idea what this kind of job would entail, or what it would mean in the grand scheme of things.
With each additional bit of information, I could feel the realization resonate on my face, even though I was no longer in front of a mirror. The realization that, to pursue this dream, life as I knew it would change drastically.
That interview lasted an hour and a half. It would have lasted longer, had I been aware enough to think about what I was considering getting myself into. As it was, there was a second part to the interview which we scheduled for the following week. I figured this would give me the whole weekend to talk with the Hubby and various friends and family members, not only to collectively freak the hell out, but also to get advice.
We mostly did this.
With the Hubby, I analyzed each statement, each answer, each sigh, each facial expression. We talked about the pros and cons and neutrals of taking the job, of rejecting the job, of what it would mean for us as a family, and as individuals.
With my friends, I explained and provided as much detail as possible about the job description, and what it would entail regarding commitment. My closest friends, who know that this is my dream of dreams, offered some of the best advice I ever received about work in general and this job in particular.
With everyone, we talked about relevant questions I should ask at the second interview. We also talked about questions I needed to ask *myself* at some point during this process. Of course, there were also follow-up questions dependent on the answers that I received; each of those provided me with additional “what-if” scenarios until I had piles of lists that were filled with questions, each one spinning me around and making me dizzy and nauseous.
The morning of the second interview dawned, and I became a better expert at Vaguebooking. I slowly made my way through the main doors, incredibly unsure of myself and with a sense of unease. I spent almost 3 hours at the opera house, filling out a questionnaire, reading questions off the list I had prepared, making sense of the answers I received, and hearing snippets of whatever opera they were currently practicing.
I couldn’t tell if it was going well. I may have dug myself into a hole with the questions I asked – but, I needed to ask those questions and receive those answers, so I could make an educated decision.
HR guy said that I would hear something within the next few weeks. We shook hands, and I shakily made my way back home. I had nothing else to give, but I told myself that I presented myself the best that I could. And now, I just had to wait for them to make a decision.