Nervous Nelly!

Nervous Nelly. This is my new identity. My new affliction. After 302 days without a job, 302 days of struggling to maintain a sense of hope... I find myself very nervous, and in complete disbelief that tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, morning is my first day at my new job.

At least I think so.

This whole experience has been down right bizarre! I "found" the job by simply placing a profile on a volunteer web site; my intention being to volunteer. Within a week I was being advised to turn in a resume for an upcoming part-time, temporary position. Last week I met with the Human Resources director who told me that the women I had met with for a volunteer orientation had told her to hire me, and that they were very impressed with me. As I sat there, I realized how much my ability to "sell myself" is lacking. Thankfully they had had the opportunity to interact with me and form their own opinions, because if it were up to me to tell them how extraordinarily qualified and fabulous I am... I'm afraid I would have failed. During our meeting, they assured me that they will work around my ceramics class, are understanding of the fact that I really need a full-time permanent job and "will be happy" for me if I do get one, but did want me to know that I could very well wind up working for them permanently. The pay will be three dollars more an hour than the job I lost in April. WHAT? Where is the catch? What is this? Are they really planning on abducting me and conducting illegal scientific research on my body parts in an undisclosed underground labratory in Mexico?

I feel terrible that I simply don't believe this is true! Is being unemployed in this faltering economy really that powerful? I suppose it must be! The old cliche, "if it's too good to be true..." keeps haunting me, so perhaps my refusal to celebrate, or even believe that I have a job is a defense mechanism to avoid serious disappointment. But IF this is real, and if I can make this job turn into something permanent, I'll be able to continue my ceramics, attend my paralegal schooling full-time, and the big score: PAY MY BILLS!

I report to duty at 9 a.m. I haven't even bothered myself with the "what do I wear" dilemma yet. I'll probably save that for 3 in the morning when I'm tossing and turning and unable to sleep because I'm full of anxiety. At least I know what to expect from myself. And maybe after the paperwork is filled out, maybe then I'll actually be able to say outloud, "I have a JOB!!"