Dude, Where's My Career?

Last week, a gentleman from a local staffing agency called me to inform me of a technical writing position in the area. I recognized the name of their agency as one that I’d used to apply for a job at a different company many months ago. Apparently, they actually kept my resume on file, and when this job opened up, they asked if I’d like to have my resume submitted for the position.

I haven’t been applying for jobs much since my acceptance to the teacher certification program. Every once in awhile, I’ll churn out a resume and cover letter for some editing assistant position, but I’ve gone from sending out two or three resumes a week to maybe one a month. Not only have I been thoroughly and heartily discouraged by months upon months of failure in the job market, but I’m also pretty excited to start the certification program. My inner masochist is just bursting with anticipation to fill my life with long, unpaid hours of hardship, stress, and torment. The sad part is that the previous statement contains no sarcasm whatsoever.

Nevertheless, with someone on the phone asking me if I’d like the opportunity to make actual money dollars without going back to school, I decided to accept the invitation. I sent the man an updated copy of my resume and cover letter for a job opening at a bank in, of all places, Kittanning. Well, actually it’s in the nearby “industrial complex” of Slate Lick, but good luck finding that on a map. This would, of course, mean that I’d be stuck living in Armstrong County for even LONGER, but I figured I didn’t really have anything to lose by accepting an interview.

All of this went down last Wednesday, and the gentleman on the phone told me that they’d be reading all the resumes the following day and that I’d hear from them either Thursday or Friday if they wanted me for an interview. It’s now the following Wednesday, and your humble author hasn’t heard a peep from them. I can safely assume that my resume is nestled comfortably in the “REJECTED” pile on the human resources desk. Even though I’m literally five minutes away from this place and have the general qualifications necessary, I figured that I’d be a long shot since I have no actual technical writing experience.

What baffles me is that I don’t know whether I’m unhappy or not about my not getting the job. A year ago, I thought I wanted nothing more than to trade my hopes and dreams for mountains of filthy lucre regardless of what menial tasks were required. I would have been happy to sell my soul to the corporate world and leave teaching to the suffering of others. I certainly haven’t suddenly developed a conscience, but it’s unsettling to me just how my thoughts repeatedly drift back into educator territory. For instance, I often find myself coming across articles in magazines and thinking to myself, “Damn, that would have been perfect for the Genre Analysis!” And then I catch myself thinking that I try to drown my overactive mind in cartoons and pornography.

I may not be able to handle the day-to-day classroom for decades, but I know that my interests and passions lie somewhere in education. That’s the stuff I like to read about, talk about, write about, or have mental breakdowns about. Just look at how many posts on this blog have the “Teaching” label! There’s certainly a noticeable trend.

I’ll still apply for other jobs because the fact that I’ve never successfully had a corporate job interview really gnaws at my self-esteem, but I’m pretty happy with my decision to go back and get my teaching certification. Once I’m given full reign over a classroom, I’ll have multiple groups of trapped high schoolers who will have to endure my endless Star Trek references and rants about how the hand dryers in the bathrooms leave my hands with a funky residue. Oh, they have no idea what they’re in for!

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"Your life, as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service us."