well-dressed foolish ideas

So there I was, wallowing in my own self pity. It's what I do every day, well mostly every day when I'm not distracted by the internet or my camera or Flickr - which is so not the internet, but rather just my sick and twisted addiction for which I need intervention. At least once a day I get distracted by looking at job postings on various websites, and this is in no way similar to being distracted by the internet. It is an exercise in futility, or so it seems, and it is just mind bogglingly depressing. I'm surprised it has yet to incite a breakdown or me falling to pieces in a sobbing and wailing fit. Oh how my cat would just love that! (Look... The washing machine terrifies her. A door closing terrifies her. Seriously, she would be shaking and cowering under the bed if and/or when the breakdown begins.)

The problem with the whole not being employed thing that I have going on here is that I can't seem to find a remedy that suits me. I'm over qualified for this many jobs and under qualified for that many jobs. I've gotten a few emails that said that they were so happy to see that I would want to work at company x, but they're so sorry that they don't have an opening that suits all of my skills, but just some of them. Those people promise to contact me when they have an opening. Should I hold my breath or put those emails into a special folder? Some emails seem to say, "Nice try, girlie, but you're WAAAY out of your league here." As I read these, I can just hear my resume hitting the rim of the wastebasket and a cheer from an HR lady "THREE points, Wally!", or if we must be precise, the digital equivalent of the emptying of the recycle bin. God that sound is just insanely annoying, isn't it? And then there are the emails that are enticing and intriguing, "We want to talk to you, but we just want to know if you fancy moving to Timbuktu." Ugh! Moving again? Not my idea of a good time. Plus, I like Vancouver, so I'm staying put. It's rather saddening to think if only I would be willing to move to Timbuktu, I might already have a job. But really, Timbuktu? Meh.

I've lost count of the number of places I've sent my resume. I don't know how many different versions of cover letters I've written. I've even sent my resume to offices where I have no prior experience or knowledge at all of the industry just, ya know, for kicks. I've redone my resume and resent it to people. I've made contact with HR people that I spoke with months ago. I'm starting to think that the end of the rope is coming up pretty quickly, and to make matters worse, it feels like the end of the rope is fraying just as fast.

I've even gone so far as walking around the neighborhood to check out nearby coffee shops for Help Wanted signs. Even they aren't looking for people. It's like the stars are aligning and this kinda karma means I was Adolf Hitler in a previous life. Or ya know, Eva. Or Ilse. Or Pol Pot. Or Barney the purple dinosaur. I love you, you love me, we're a .... Yeah, sorry about that.

So imagine my astonishment and surprise and shock horror! when I got a phone call to set up an interview today. I almost burst into tears right there on the phone, but I noticed my cat, so I kept my shit together long enough to jot down some details. It's so depressing the amount of excitement one interview appointment has instilled in me. But it's true, I'm all giddy about it.