Fired After 50, Part II: Interviews---The Good, The Bad, and the Utterly Ridiculous
Second in a series about what it's like for a nurse to find her/himself out of work after age 50, smack-dab in the middle of the worst recession in our lifetime. This blog post describes the 'fun' I'm having while searching for my next job, which---as of this writing---still has yet to materialize. Please join me on my "Adventures in Interviewing"!
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Mamma said there'd be days like this.......what she DIDN'T say was that there'd be so durned many of them.
Of all the things in life that I hate the most, interviewing has got to be right up there near the top of the list. I loathe interviews. One reason is rather petty---I have an intense aversion to pantyhose and heels---but getting dressed up is far from the worst aspect of the ritual. Being a little OCDish, I'm always worrying about arriving on time; being directionally dyslexic as well, I am also apt to get lost. I mean really, REALLY lost. But the worst part of it is the digestive upsets that befall me every time: my stomach tends to revolt at inopportune moments (last week the dreaded Green Apple Quick-Step hit me minutes before this huge panel interview), and at the very least I'm often beset by a bad case of borborygmi during the ordeal.
I've had several interviews since my last blog entry, and the best I can say at this point is that they've been quite a learning experience. Meaning, I'm learning a lot of humility. The first one, I left an hour and a half early for a trip that should've taken 45 minutes, and promptly got myself totally disoriented. I wound up having to pull over in the parking lot at the state prison (!) and call the company for directions. Turns out I was all the way across the city from where I was supposed to be. I did my best Jeff Gordon impression in cross-town traffic, but even so, I was fifteen minutes late. Great way to make a first impression. I didn't get the job. Can we all say, "DUH"?
Next, I was called for a two-part panel interview at the county health department, first with the interdisciplinary team, then with the medical director and the operations manager. Against my better judgment, I'd applied for a position as the clinical services manager, never believing I would be considered for it; accordingly, I was stunned when they called me a few days later and asked me to come in. This marathon, two-hour-long session actually went better than I would've thought, possibly because of the rare stroke of genius that prompted me to bring in a portfolio of policies and procedures I'd written some years ago, along with instructional materials I'd created for several different literacy levels.
I haven't heard back from them as yet, and I don't really expect to; not only am I vastly UNDERqualified, but in my heart of hearts I know I was wearing my deer-in-the-headlights expression for at least half of the time I was there. I was in way over my head, and nobody in that room knew it better than I. But by gosh, no one at the employment office will ever be able to accuse me of NOT 'actively searching for work', as required by the rules and regs.
Then, today. It was back to the big city where I'd gotten tangled up last week; this time, I left TWO HOURS early. And got lost. And was perilously near to being late again. But this time I made it with four minutes to spare, and had a great interview with a manager whom I can easily imagine working for and getting along with really well. Actually, I would BE the manager of that office.........it's a small hospice with only a few nurses, she wants someone with management experience and is willing to teach the hospice part. Sounds just about perfect for a nurse who wants to break into hospice nursing, right? Yeah, I think so too. But just as she was looking over my resume........in a burst of quiet........my belly chose to announce its outrage that lunch was overdue.
~sigh~
One of these days, I'll get it right. I won't have gotten lost, I'll be relaxed and have a full tummy, I'll have the right outfit on, I'll walk into a building wearing a confident smile, and I'll knock their socks off with my intelligence and witty repartee. And then---please God---I'll land a job that will keep me in toilet paper and gasoline for the next 18 years, because when this is all over, Lord, I don't EVER want to have to go through anything like it again. Amen!
