After suffering through several sleepless nights waiting to see whether my last boss(es) would give me a good reference, I received a job offer last week. I’ll be doing financial analysis at a local nonprofit (the one with the men) half-time. It’s a temporary gig through the end of the year and if it turns into another pile of bad soulness, I can leave.
Today is my first day.
Having been through a relatively traumatic recent job experience/ job loss (what the hell do I call it anyway?), I’m less confident and sure than I’ve ever been. There’s only so much positive self-talk one can engage in while preparing toast for preschoolers:
"It’s ok, you’ll be fine —-PEANUT BUTTER? — It’s just spreadsheets –STOP! MOMMY HASN’T HAD HER COFFEE –– The hair isn’t that bad, they won’t notice — LISTEN! JUST SIT & EAT & STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER!--spreadsheets are fun — BECAUSE I SAID SO!"
Maybe I’ll walk in and see all the nice pretty work people and the angels of balancing spreadsheets and sassy sister friends will smile down upon me and all will be well… Maybe.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.