Long Story Short or The Lesser of Two Evils

Posted April 02, 2006 by

I started referring to it as choosing between the lesser of two evils.
Long story short:
Last June, about three weeks into my job search post-graduation, out of desperation, I started asking an acquaintance of mine about where she worked, and if there were any openings. It came up in conversation one day that she videotaped weddings, and with the audio/visual experience I had in college, I figured it was something I could do.
I sent her boss my résumé, and I came in to talk to him. I can’t call what happened that morning a job interview, because there was no interview. I could barely get him to sit down at his desk and talk to me. And when I finally did, he told me he couldn’t hire me at the time.
So it came as a surprise when, a month later, he called me at 8 o’clock in the morning and offered me a job.
I had gotten my wish, or at least at the time, that’s what I thought. It was a way for me to move out of my mother’s house. It was the break I had been waiting almost three months for.
And seven months later—I realize the mistake that I made.
At times, I regret taking that position. It’s made me nothing but miserable since I figured out what kind of person my boss is. Video taping weddings and video production is one thing—but it’s not a professional video production company. It’s an office in the back of the appliance store that he runs. And not only am I standing behind the lens of a camera at a wedding I wasn’t invited to, I am trying to convince some middle-aged farm couple of the benefits of a front-loading washing machine. I am not a sales person, nor will I ever be one.
Yet, here I am, whoring out satellite dishes.
But most of the time, I just answer the phone. And I pray that 5 o’clock comes faster than it did the day before.
Did I make the wrong decision though? I’m unhappy, but I’m out on my own. Had I stayed in my mother’s house, and taken some part time job at a sandwich shop until I found something more solid to move out for—what kind of shape would I be in? I wouldn’t have rent to worry about paying, but at the time, it wasn’t money that I was worried about.
And now, almost a year has passed since this whole mess started. But I’ve learned from my past mistakes. I started looking for a new job back in November. And out of everything that I’ve sent my résumé out to—every writing job I’m not qualified for because I don’t have a degree in English or Journalism—I’ve only gotten two job interviews.
There is hope though—another interview on Friday afternoon. If this works, it would be a godsend. A way out of Dubuque, IA, a way out of my cold apartment, and a way out of my job.
But if the past has taught me anything, it is that I shouldn’t put a lot of faith into interviews. That’s a terrible attitude to have, but after almost a year of “no thank you” letters and after almost a year spent in hell—wouldn’t you feel the same way?
Here’s hoping though.

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