I’m still fighting off the last lovely symptoms of my lingering cold, which has been going strong now for over a week. I can’t decide if it’s the sickness that makes me more prone to melancholy and general laziness, or the fact that I just came back from a really nice 2+ week vacation (Germany solo, and then Oxford/Bath/Windsor with my mom and grandmother). Both of those scenarios (being sick, and post-vacation blues) are probably compounding to set the stage for a really whiny blog post. Enjoy!
As much as I pretend my job rejections aren’t getting to me, and as much as I tell myself that I didn’t want those entry-level admin positions anyway, well…that’s a lie. It’s difficult to swallow constructive criticism like, “Clea interviewed very well and is personable and wonderful and blah blah blah BUT her confidence wavered on this meaningless Excel-wizardry task and sales presentation and she did not do as well as expected.” It’s the “as expected” that really gets to me, because I don’t like disappointing people. It tells me that I didn’t live up to some inflated expectation that my CV seems to imply.
It also comes at a sharp contrast to my rejection from this morning, “Clea did well…so much so, that we think this entry-level job would not be the right role…she would be suited to a role with more responsibility.” Maybe I’m alone in this, but what if I don’t want more responsibility? “Responsibility” promises creativity, independence, and productivity, but too often ends up delivering headaches, blame, and unnecessary burdens. Why won’t you just let me do meaningless paperwork and leave at 5 o’clock? Okay, I’m starting to annoy myself, so enough of that.
I think my general dissatisfaction with the job market is starting to bleed over into the kitchen, too. I’ve made some pretty terrible creations recently: applesauce that tastes 100% like cloves and nothing else, bread that somehow remained gummy and moist and not in a good way, a pucker-y apple crisp that overdosed on lemon juice, and forgotten caramelized onions that burnt the bottom of my pot to a nice, charred crisp.
On that note, we’re going out to dinner– I’m handing over the responsibility of a good meal to hands more capable than mine. But before that, I’m going to get out of my pajamas, out of the house, and out of this self-imposed rut.