I am wearing my pajamas and a vintage faux fur coat and my hair is in a 2 day old disheveled beehive style. I have refreshed my email 20 times in the last hour.
If I did get The Job, I wouldn’t be able to be sitting here in my apartment at 11:39 on a Wednesday. If I did get The Job, I would be at work right now, probably anxiously awaiting a snack break, or furiously scribbling down a song idea, longing to escape my Place Of Employment. I’d probably be wishing I could write. But instead here I am in this apartment, where I can write all day if I choose, and I’m wishing I could be at The Job.
If I was at The Job I wouldn’t have time to perfect my Tracy Morgan impression, or concoct new recipes from things that are left in my kitchen cupboards, or compose J-pop inspired synth melodies. I wouldn’t have time to drive all the way across town to go to the good grocery store instead of hurriedly popping in to the crappy neighborhood Kroger that smells like crackheads and rotten eggs.
I also wouldn’t have time to feel like total shit about myself for being a twenty something college graduate who for some reason cannot find a full-time job. Not even at a restaurant or a retail store. I would not have time to make an exhaustive mental list of all of my shortcomings and flaws and wonder if I did something in a past life to render me unemployable.
I refresh my email one more time. They said I should expect to hear from them about a second interview within 24-48 hours. It has now been 48 hours and 12 minutes.