And In The Meantime

And for all this activity, there is a surprising amount of nothingness. Loneliness, even. I am alone with my own thoughts for hours, even days sometimes. And although I find myself to be wildly entertaining, funny thoughts and stories are meant to be shared.

And there are scant few people to sare them with. At least in the moment.

Yes, it's Summer and lots of people are inclined to sit outside and be social rather than squirrel themselves away like they do in Winter, but people's lives have truly kept going at the customary clip, while mine has more or less ground to a halt.

People are working. Or taking vacations. Or spending days at the beach or an amusement park. Or doing things with their kids who are home for the summer. Or doing all of that last minute college send-off stuff. They are not sitting around waiting for me to come walking up the street with a bottle or Chardonnay and two glasses.

My lifeline is Facebook, but even then, no one wants to be the kook who posts something every hour, regardless of how interesting or funny. It's bad enough that my walking achievements are posted every day. Zzzzzzzzzz. No one cares if I have declared myself to be the next Forest Gump. I am in grave danger of becoming the White Noise of the Facebook community.

I could call my mother.

OK just stop right there. No one is that desperate for conversation. Not while Obamacare is still a boiling hot cauldron of political animosity.

So when I get an interview, I am not only grateful for the opportunity, I am grateful for the break in the monotony. The social contact. A smiling voice on the end of the phone who is not going to talk to me simply out of pity. A live grown up on the phone! Yay me!

But the interview ups and down are truly murder.

Like the final interview in a process that stopped dead for no explainable reason. All smiles, all buying signs, all positive vibes, and then a resounding NO. And then the hiring manager called me just as I was walking into a jewelry party and totally wrecked my rare evening of fun. Asshole.

The interview process that moved at great speed and involved no fewer than four executive level interviews, all conducted on the phone, before the job was awarded to a candidate that was already affiliated with the company. How could they have been sure? They never even saw me! Couldn't pick me out of a lineup! How can they be so sure I am not The One?

And as they had been before, my friends and family are remarkable support.  Charlotte keeps track of my job search like her own child's college selection process. Wishes me luck. Gets upset with me. Tom roots for me every chance he gets and helps pick me up off the ground when I am crushed by another declination. Ted sends me his fiery Irish mojo from the West Coast and reminds me that I am better than most. Craig believes in me. Suffers my losses. Reminds me that I am wonderful and that "it will happen." That my death march sjob earch is not over because the right job has not materialized.  Encourages me not to settle for any old job. Be patient, it's out there and it will make all of this crap look like just an exercise. It's my time. It's coming.

But when I sit down to pay my bills, or look at the furniture that needs desperately to be replaced, or the bathroom that needs updating, or Gidget yowling in heat because I can't spend the money to get her fixed, patience escapes me.

And let's face it. I was never blessed with a saintly amount of patience to begin with.