Wednesday, August 16, 2006


My interview exhausted me. I wasn't thinking.

I stuck the key to her apartment into the front door to her apartment building and - oops! - stuck.

Like, really stuck.

Like, I stood at her front door and pulled on the key until my thumb and index finger blistered.

During this entire ordeal (where I couldn't reach Aviva on her phone), I was thinking that it had to be a sign. Shit like that doesn't just happen. It happens for a reason.

And maybe the reason is that I shouldn't move to New York.

I sat on the steps to her building, waiting for someone to come in or out. If I was at home, the first person I would've called is my dad.

It's strange and scary, not having him as an option.

I waited outside for a while - 15 or 20 minutes, maybe? - before Aviva's ex-roommate came to the door. I knew her, sort of, in college. She and Aviva lived together when they first moved to New York, had a massive falling out, and she got another apartment in the building.

She got us into the building (by buzzing another resident! What an idea!) and gave me the number to the building's superintendent. He, luckily, was in the building. And he freed the key for me.

Thank goodness.

I'm not sure how to interpret this.

Bad sign: key totally stuck in door. Blisters. Helplessness. Humiliation.

Good sign: one girl I know in the building shows up. Superintendent is available to help me. Disaster is avoided.

Now, let's talk about the interview.

I thought that it went well. It was somewhat difficult to tell how they felt about me, but the conversation was easy and the questions weren't too awkward or horrible and I think I presented myself fairly well.

It was long. 10 am-1:30 pm. Very long. I met with five people who I'd actually be working with and then was ushered across the street to the human resources department to fill out the formal application and interview with the HR recruiter.

I bounce between wanting this job and hoping that I don't get it.

I want the job because I want a new challenge and because I hate where I am and because it would be a great opportunity for me.

I don't want it because I'm afraid I'll hate it as much as I hate my current job. Because I'd be moving so far. Because I am unsure of myself and of my ability and I'm afraid I will take the job and make the move and it will be totally wrong for me and I will be incredibly screwed.

And that leaves me to where I am now. Confused. Blistered fingers. Off to wander the city a little before I meet Aviva after she's through with work. Scared, too. Definitely scared.


Plantation said...

There's an old adage, an old cliche I'm sure you've heard. It goes like this, "a ship at harbour is safe, but that's not what it was built for."

So get out there and go for it. It's not a mistake if it doesn't work out because you'll have learned even more. You're so confident, athletically. I wanna see that attitude with jobs, men, and yourself as a whole.

I guess that's enough unsolicited BS for one comment. :-)

Amy said...

the key in the lock? just a key in a lock. Nothing more. I'm glad the interview went well. It is hard to make such a major change with so many 'unknowns' but just take them one at a time. Does NY excite you? Do you think you'd like it once you adjusted to the move? Then think about the job. Does the job seem like a good one? If it didn't work out, would you still want to be in NY? Putting together the pieces of the puzzle will get it all to come out right. Keep us posted!

Anonymous said...

Just remember, you're mot making a "for a lifetime" decision.

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