Well, my job search continues. While the CPA firm is still in play (I’m still temping there) and as Tim, Nut Bar, my Mother, and everyone else points out, I am working, making money, and there are more positives than drawbacks there. But temping is not getting me a job, and momma needs a job so she can buy that pretty house in Highland Park!
When talks stalled at the CPA firm, I resumed (or rather, amped it up) my job search. And miraculously, I found an oasis in the desert of job searching—literally. It was a program director job at a company called Oasis and sounded suspiciously like what I did at PSVN: managed volunteers, managed programs, did most of the accounting functions, worked with community charity partners, and on and on it went. I wasn’t the only one who saw this déjà vu all over again: a former PSVN volunteer even mailed the job description to me.
It appears that this is one oasis that just merely a mirage. I sent in my resume and the next week got a call from the Executive Director, who asked me when a good time would be to come in. She suggested 3:00 p.m. on Thursday, and when I asked if a later time might be available, she suggested 4:15 p.m. on Friday.
Friday came and I got to Oasis’ office and told the receptionist who I was and why I was here. A disembodied voice called out, “Your interview was yesterday,” and out comes the Executive Director. After I insisted it was Friday and she insisted it was Thursday, we were at a bit of a stalemate. I said I was sorry multiple times. I suggested that we might find another date and time, and she firmly refused. Three times. I wished her well in her candidate search and left.
My being upset and nearly in tears turned to anger, I’d have to admit. My mother will tell you I have the best memory of anyone she knows. I admittedly have more stress going on (aforementioned house and other things I’m afraid I won’t be discussing on a blog) than usual, but after the “hall of shame” bus ride post-non-interview I consulted my notes. There, plain as day, was “Friday” written in, with the time. But these days, that and two bucks will get you a coffee at Starbuck’s.
But as Tim and my Mom pointed out, do I really want to work for someone who doesn’t even allow for the possibility that she might be wrong? I think I’d feel like working with a jail warden who believes all inmates should serve their time and that second chances are not a possibility. My mother called her Cruella Deville, a description I rather like.
So it’s back to hitting the pavement, working at the CPA firm and looking for a job. Keep your fingers crossed that my little house in Highland Park will still be available after this craziness is over.
When talks stalled at the CPA firm, I resumed (or rather, amped it up) my job search. And miraculously, I found an oasis in the desert of job searching—literally. It was a program director job at a company called Oasis and sounded suspiciously like what I did at PSVN: managed volunteers, managed programs, did most of the accounting functions, worked with community charity partners, and on and on it went. I wasn’t the only one who saw this déjà vu all over again: a former PSVN volunteer even mailed the job description to me.
It appears that this is one oasis that just merely a mirage. I sent in my resume and the next week got a call from the Executive Director, who asked me when a good time would be to come in. She suggested 3:00 p.m. on Thursday, and when I asked if a later time might be available, she suggested 4:15 p.m. on Friday.
Friday came and I got to Oasis’ office and told the receptionist who I was and why I was here. A disembodied voice called out, “Your interview was yesterday,” and out comes the Executive Director. After I insisted it was Friday and she insisted it was Thursday, we were at a bit of a stalemate. I said I was sorry multiple times. I suggested that we might find another date and time, and she firmly refused. Three times. I wished her well in her candidate search and left.
My being upset and nearly in tears turned to anger, I’d have to admit. My mother will tell you I have the best memory of anyone she knows. I admittedly have more stress going on (aforementioned house and other things I’m afraid I won’t be discussing on a blog) than usual, but after the “hall of shame” bus ride post-non-interview I consulted my notes. There, plain as day, was “Friday” written in, with the time. But these days, that and two bucks will get you a coffee at Starbuck’s.
But as Tim and my Mom pointed out, do I really want to work for someone who doesn’t even allow for the possibility that she might be wrong? I think I’d feel like working with a jail warden who believes all inmates should serve their time and that second chances are not a possibility. My mother called her Cruella Deville, a description I rather like.
So it’s back to hitting the pavement, working at the CPA firm and looking for a job. Keep your fingers crossed that my little house in Highland Park will still be available after this craziness is over.
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