Free At Last!

Saturday marked the end of my time working in shoe hell. Whoo! A day earlier than I had expected. It's one of the few jobs I've quit in my life. The only one since college. And no matter how much I dreaded working there, quitting was hard. Or maybe awkward is a better word for it. I'd originally said (in my interview) that I planned to stay even if I got a full-time job. And it wasn't meant to be a lie, if I'd gotten any of the jobs I was interviewing for last spring, I would have had to just to make ends meet and pay back my parents. Plus, I worked with nice, cool people. But as my mom reminded me there are plenty of people out there who need that job more than me now. Besides, I was planning on giving notice anyway so that I could go on vacation and move. Now I get to take my vacation without having to stress about coming back and boxing all my stuff up afterwards. It's a good feeling. Which is something I haven't felt in quite awhile. And hopefully, this means the end of my nightmares about shoes.

Maybe Quitters Really Do Prosper

This is a bit behind the times, but it's been an overwhelming past few days. Last week I finally decided that after getting rejected by all the companies I'd managed to get interviews with--because, despite the fact that I was applying for jobs for which I was amply qualified and going to be taking big pay cuts, they all had oodles of more qualified applicants to choose from--that maybe right now just wasn't the right time and I'd be better off focusing on grad school. I'd talked to my parents about consolidating my stuff with the stuff they already have in storage and moving back to Nebraska to live with my grama and uncle. I'd figured out when I needed to give notice at the shoe store and my apartment complex. And I'd agreed to go hiking in Yosemite with my dad in July. On Tuesday of last week, my mom bought me a plane ticket to fly out for two weeks (because, hey, I'm unemployed and if I'm going to fly out to see my parents, it might as well be a long enough trip to make it worth my while). On Wednesday, I get a call from one of the temp agencies I've been on the books with since September wanting to know if I'm available immediately. I tell them I can work out shifts at DSW but that I've got this two week trip planned for July that it's too late to change. I assume this is going to be it because every other time they've called me, it's all amounted to nothing, especially if I've had anything that might conflict. So on Friday, I'm at DSW to pick up a new pair of shoes before I turn in my notice on Saturday (I'd rather it not look like I'm only buying shoes to get the discount...though that's exactly what I'm doing), when I get a phone call from the temp agency wanting to know if I can start work on Monday morning for an indefinite (read as long as they like me and I like them) period.
So that's it. I'm employed again. I just had to completely give up all hope of ever finding a job in order to acheive it. Maybe quitting isn't such a bad thing after all. (Though my DSW managers aren't terribly happy with me for quitting on them, but as I've tried to explain, they were going to lose me anyway, and this job pays enough that I don't have to deal with the stress of working 7 days a week, so it's not worth it.)

Stomped on by the Giant Elephant of Life Sucks

One of my friends was reassuring me tonight and said she was hopeful for me even when I had trouble with it myself and I told her, "Oh, I'm still hopeful. It's just that I keep getting my hopes up only to have them stomped to death by the giant elephant of life sucking." I have trouble believing in the power of prayer and the like when I know that despite all my friends and family and myself praying for me to find a job, I still get passed over and rejected at every turn. And I know that that's really not how I should be thinking about it, but, damn it, it's hard not to after 9 months of job hunting (and it really has become a hunt; I think that editorial jobs in Dallas ought to be up on the endangered species list--there have barely been any new job postings in my field in the last month). Faced with the prospect of having to borrow thousands of dollars more from my parents (as Jane put it so succinctly in P&P, "How is half such a sum to be repaid?"), put my stuff in storage and move halfway across the country, it is increasingly difficult to be hopeful about anything. My current job definitely does not inspire hope. In fact, I am quickly becoming jaded about humankind as nearly all of my shifts at work have involved some kind of brush with theft. Apparently people who read are inherently more honest. I can only remember one significant case of theft in the two plus years I worked at Barnes and Noble in high school. I've already had to deal with ladies who stick shoes in purses or attempt to walk out with them on their feet and men who stick shoes down their pants (Nancy Drew: Shoe Detective...there's a reason nobody's made that movie). It's not like they're necessary to your life. It's not like you can't go to Wal-Mart or Payless and get something passably stylish. It in simply incomprehensible to me how these people can live with themselves. I would feel like I was walking around with two cement blocks of guilt on my feet if I ever stole a pair of shoes. But apparently my values are not a reflection of our society en masse. The only good news right now is that I have four days off from Shoe Hell to work on my stories. If I could just finish a novel, then maybe all my troubles would be resolved. At the very least I could say "HA!" to all the people I went to high school with at my ten-year reunion whenever it is (I'm just glad it's not this summer). So, yes, right now I really feel as if Life has stomped on my spirit and left it behind forgotten and groaning into the dirt.

Don't Let Them Eat Me!

It's official. There's something worse than having to work in retail. Having shoe-nightmare-induced insomnia. Everytime I close my eyes I start seeing shoes, so many shoes. Spilling out of boxes and strewn all around me and as I'm racing to put them away, more keep piling up in every direction. WHY? WHY AM I CURSED WITH NIGHTMARES ABOUT SHOES? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY MIND? It's not enough that being on my feet, running to and fro across a store makes my calves ache and my feet want to fall off. Or that I'm so tired my brain feels like scrambled eggs over easy. No, now my mind has decided to intrude upon the hours that should be a blissful escape from the hell that my daily existence as become. Tonight I can't even make it into REM sleep because the moment I close my eyes four-inch heels and wedges start dancing across my eyelids and I'm forced back awake. I'm SOOO tired. Why does my mind hate me so much? All I want is to sleep for a few hours. Is that really so much to ask?