I want it so badly I can taste it… the waiting game.
23rd December 2013
I’ve avoided writing about this because I just don’t know if it will happen.
I want it so badly, with every fibre of my being, that I’m literally aching for it.
It’s not what you think it is either. Oh no, it’s not located on a person or persons. It’s not the D, although lately I’ve dreamed about some impressive ones and thanks to Rosie I might be dreaming about them some more tonight…
It’s got nothing to do with anyone but me and a job offer.
I had a phone interview on Friday for my dream job.
But now I’m scared that because I want it so much I won’t get it. Because that’s the story of my life. I never get what I want. And I don’t know how to turn off the want!!
I was so nervous at 6.15 am. I got up an hour earlier. I tried to prepare but they didn’t send me any information about the position. All I had was their website to go on, which didn’t tell me much. So by the time the phone rang at 6.20 am I was beside myself and pacing upstairs on the balcony which is the only place in the house we get reception. Damn you Australian phone reception/Internet/everything.
So there I was pacing, at 6.15 – 6.20 am in my pyjama’s. And a single top because it’s so bloody hot. Be glad I remembered my clothes I was that nervous. I had my cup of coffee on the edge of the balcony waiting for me. Just in case I needed to drink it. You know, nerves.
They call, the reception is shit, they have me on speaker phone and I can barely hear them all. They apologise that it’s not on Skype because their computer systems are being upgraded at the moment so they don’t have access. They wanted a land-line, but who in their right mind has a land-line these days? I was contemplating going into work so that I could take the call there on the land-line, then remembered that I had to be in the field that day so I had to wing it with my shitty phone reception at home and hope for the best.
It was really hard hearing what they were saying, there was a lot of “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, could you please repeat it?” going on. I felt like I was so nervous I was blabbering. I could barely hear their questions so heard bits and pieces and ran with what I thought they were asking as when I tried to clarify it all got scrambled and lost somewhere obviously in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on the way to me. They asked me why I applied for the job, I said that I was ready for a new challenge, a new outlook, a new place. I thought the job sounded great and that it would fit perfectly with what I was looking for and that I would also fit in perfectly with the job itself.
At one point, they were in the middle of a question to me and I dropped the phone because I was hanging off the edge of the balcony waving my mobile around like a fucking lunatic trying to get more than 2 bars so that I could hear them clearer. And the phone fell. It just went flying like someone had smacked it out of my hand. And into the underbrush. The “garden” that is about a 2 – 3 metre drop from where I was on the other side. I can’t remember if I swore. I probably did. I wondered what to do. And then a minute or so later I heard my phone ringing. I eye-balled the spider that was spinning a new web from our balcony to a tree.
I wondered if I could make it past without ending up with a spider up my nose… Could I see the phone from up here in the plant foliage? No? Let’s move a bit and see if there’s another angle I can see it from. How the hell am I going to find it?
I contemplated how much this drop was going to hurt considering I didn’t have a bra on, or shoes and was in a singlet top and my pj shorts.
I climbed over the edge of my balcony and slid myself down the other side, with my hands on the edge of the balcony until I was literally doing a push up in reverse and keeping a wary eye on the spider and it’s web. This left me about a metre and a half or so to fall.
I looked up and into the neighbours window and hoped to god that they weren’t looking out at 6.30 am. I want this job. Push off from the damn wall! I can do this, it won’t hurt at all. Let go of the fucking wall!! It’s not like I can push back up anyway, so it’s either be stuck here and scream for help – totally meaning that I would never show my face anywhere around my house and would need to move – or I could get off the wall and fall.
So I kicked off from the wall, might have screamed “FUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK” and landed like a gymnast. I even did a small bounce when I landed and got up. Oh yes, gymnast bitches.
My house-mate (soon to be ex-wife at this rate) said it sounded like someone had dropped an elephant upstairs.
I looked up, I missed the spider!! WIN! At which point I started to rummage around the greenery for my ringing phone in the hopes that they didn’t hang up, oh please don’t hang up… I hope I don’t upset a funnel-web spider, I don’t need to die, I want this job! What if there’s some weird alien living in here wanting to eat me… oh god something slimey is near my toe. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PHONE?!?!!
Bear Grylls would have been proud of me and my bare minimum clothed bush search and rescue mission.
I didn’t squeal like a girl once. Oh no. I did not even though my fingers were covered with disgusting gardeny things. My feet were starting to resemble a hobbits’ in the dirty stakes and my legs felt like they were swallowed up in spider webs. I was thanking whatever god was responsible for me forgetting to shave my legs in the shower the night before so that I had a bit of stubble to possibly help with the webs not touching my skin.
I found the phone, answered it, apologised profusely and totally streamlined my answer “No, I really don’t know what happened there, I’m so sorry, what was the question you were asking?” as I stepped into the plants in my frantic dash to try to get onto the back street and concrete and away from nature. Nature and I don’t get along at that hour of the morning.
As they were asking the question I looked up at my balcony and longingly at my coffee. Sitting ever so patiently on the edge of the balcony. Taunting me.
The rest of the interview went fine, I moved my pacing from the balcony onto the street. I paced. I answered questions, I waved my arms dramatically. I derailed and rerailed. I nearly puked from nerves and hoped that I answered the questions correctly and that I didn’t sound like a lunatic but instead someone who had it all together. But I somehow think that I might have come across as a raving lunatic.
They said that they would get back to me via email in the next 2 – 3 weeks with a response on whether they would offer me the job or not. They asked how long it would take me to get over there to start. I said 2-3 weeks considering I need to give some notice to my current place of employment.
I thanked them profusely for taking the time to interview me and their patience with the crappy service and no land-line.
I was glad that they were all Australian’s on the interview panel and that I apologise for being so nervous and I hoped to hear from them soon.
I got off the phone and might have doubled over trying to catch my breath.
Then I got up and looked up at my balcony from the street.
I contemplated how I could get back to my now frozen coffee.
I tried to climb back up, but there was scrambling, swearing and finally defeat.
I looked around and hoped that no one was awake yet. 6.50 am – damnit. I wrapped my arms around my boobs and started to walk quickly around the block to the front. Past all the houses on the side street. I nodded to the guy in a suit who smirked at me. Maybe it was a smile. I was holding my boobs, everything was a smirk to me. Oh the shame. I picked up the pace as I walked barefoot and in my pyjama’s.
I tried to call my house-mate to let me back in. I rang the buzzer. I rang it again. Gods damn our phone connection. I tried calling her again, it went straight to voicemail. I texted her again begging her to let me back in. She finally woke up to the buzzer and let me back in. I opened the door and walked into the hallway, she bounds out of her bedroom stark naked and asking me wtf I was doing outside in my pyjama’s that show my butt cheeks and a see through singlet top and why was I covered in foliage and looking like I’d rolled around in the garden? Fucker.
Why does nothing ever go to plan? Why isn’t my life easy?
So now the waiting game begins. I’m panicking that I totally screwed up the interview and that they aren’t going to want me because I want it so badly.
The gods never give me what I want. How do I stop wanting this?
Loki has gone on a rampage saying it’s fate and that it will be because he wants me near him instead of on another continent. I asked him not to tell anyone because I was scared I would jinx it. I think he’s so excited that he can not. His friends are now asking when we’re getting married and if I’m going to move in with him.
I’m scared that now that we are both wanting this so badly it’s going to end doubly worse. They aren’t going to want me. They’ll decline and I’ll cry.