Exactly two weeks ago, I wrote this:
67 applications, 10 interviews, 9 hours of testing, 3 rejections, and 2 offers later, I finally have a job.
Often discouraging and sometimes insulting, this job search has been a merciless test of my resolve and patience. Over the past five weeks, I’ve been judged, criticized, disrespected, manipulated, and lied to, but none of it matters anymore because after all of that, I’ve landed my first choice job.
After today’s final interview at that job, I was promised that good news would be delivered to me within the day. I had dinner in my neighborhood, talked to my best friend, and came home. Once I was in my apartment, all the tension dissolved and I cried. It had been so hard.
And then I stopped writing because I knew there was still a chance that I might not get the job. But I also knew the Vice President wouldn’t make such a promise lightly, so I kept my hopes up and stopped looking for more jobs (mostly out of sheer exhaustion, not confidence). I waited all afternoon and evening that day for the promised email, but 8 o’clock rolled around and it still hadn’t come and I had to leave for a date. Throughout the date, I checked my phone every time it vibrated. Still no email. I kept the above writing in my drafts and waited some more. A lot more.