About a soul-destructive process of looking for a job.
Ok, I’ve just sent my resume to apply for a job I know I’ll never get. Seriously, I was writing a letter, explaining how freaking perfect I am for the position, and I was laughing at myself. But at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder (well, hello, Carrie Bradshaw) am I an optimist or just stupid?
If you’ve ever been looking for a job you know how self-conscious this process is making you feel. Companies seem to hire only geniuses and superheroes out there: you need to know this, and that, have a hundred years of experience and speak at least five languages. And there I am, sitting in front of my computer, dwelling on a thought that I am completely useless human being and I will definitely end up under a bridge.
Also I’ve just unbuttoned my jeans, because I had a big lunch and apparently, I wasn’t feeling bad enough already.
And what about all those stories of success? Supermodels and actors discovered at the malls by the agencies, writers and poets being completely broke and miserable before publishing the works of their lives, scientists with “accidental” breakthroughs? I’m not saying they didn’t work hard, God no, but how did they begin, how were they found and, most importantly, how did they know what the hell they wanted to do?
Trying to distract myself in order to prevent my falling into a big black hole of depression and self-loathing, I was searching for stories of success on the Internet, and God, I wish I hadn’t. It seems to be two types of people out there: the once born with the privileges and having to work really hard to prove their worth to the world (cheers to Kendall Jenner, not that I’m a fan), and those lucky once who managed to be at the right place in the right time.
“I just quit my job, I was completely broke, but I had this dream and I decided to /email the company I wanted to work for/start a blog or a YouTube channel/ go to the audition/buy a lottery ticket/sell my soul to the devil/start a riot under my future bosses’ window/take all my savings and start travelling/” — you pick the right one, but if you don’t mind, I will stop at “I had this dream” line. I understand the pursuing-your-dream process, but what if I don’t have one? It’s not like I’ve no interests, I do, but I’m 23 years old and I have no freaking idea what I want to do for the rest of my life. Everything is still exciting, because I’m young, and at the same time everything is already boring, because we live in twenty first century and we’ve seen it all.
Just so that you understand the whole irony and hopelessness of my situation: I’ve been studying nuclear physics at the University, which only made me realise that I suck at exact sciences (I could have told you that five years ago, mum) and at the same time I’ve been working in tourism, which made me pretty much despise people.
Lets move back to the start: I was applying for a ridiculous position. The problem is, it’s my dream job, something I can imagine myself doing (oh, so you know what you want, you little liar?) and it’s absolutely beyond my reach for so many reasons. I understand that, I do, I will not get it, but here comes the question: if I know that my chances are even smaller than my savings (I have none), why did I send the resume? Despite all my rationality, is there a tiny optimistic motherfucker lost somewhere inside my brain, asking one thing I would never dare to ask myself: “What if you got lucky?” Because, in all honesty, why not?
Basically, I have two options here:
1. I can sit on my ass, browsing the Internet and hoping, that my dream job will pop up, or somebody will hear about an opening, or one day I would wake up and magically realise what I want to be. Sounds reasonable, because I have time, I am lucky enough to be mentally and financially supported by my husband and in that case it would mean, that I still believe in destiny, fairytales and unicorns (and it’s not that bad in our cynical world).
2. I can try to take my life in my own hands and apply for whatever job, just to start, to keep going, to meet people, hoping to find myself in the process. Sounds reasonable, because in order to get things happen you need to start doing something. But what if I get stuck on not-so-interesting position and miss the one I really want? Would taking a job below my abilities count as self-betrayal?
Well well, what would it be?
I guess me and that dreamy motherfucker in my head would grab a beer and just relax for now, because I forgot to mention one little detail: my job search has been going on just for three days.
Yup, you can laugh.