The day I boarded a plane last week for my job interview it was cold and rainy. I wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in my hobbit hole with a book, and, in a larger sense, to remain in this period of life that has been all about me and my interests as opposed to the relentless demands of a job. I was hoping to attend several events in this city that particular week and was sad to miss them. My overwhelming thought was, “I don’t want to move again.”
When I arrived in Los Angeles, I didn’t feel any sense of nostalgia. Instead I thought, “I already closed this particular chapter of my life and what am I doing back?”
But the interview went well (they seemed excited about me and my experience) and the sun came out the day I explored apartment vacancies. The ocean looked beautiful. I met up with former colleagues who expressed that they would love to have me back and who seem to have a lot of confidence in me and my abilities. Additional job opportunities were floated by me. By the time I left, I felt I could be happy there again.
I returned home to a mostly non-ringing phone and no word on the professional openings I applied for in my old org here last month. I may be offered a long-term temporary receptionist job here, and I did pull out of the interview process for a professional job about an hour outside of the city (too small a town for me), but for the most part pickings remain slim and my colleagues here remain silent.
My mood has been uplifted though. I admit, it’s nice to feel wanted.