The phone that wouldn't ring

Today I waited.

I waited. And waited. And waited.

I hoped they might call yesterday, but they didn’t. So today was it. They had to call today!

They said they would.

I carried my phone into the bathroom while I took a shower. I set it next to me on the counter as I washed the dishes. I put it where I could see it on my desk while I ate lunch. I slipped it in my pocket and walked around the house with it. I checked it every few minutes to make sure the ringer was on (it was) and I had service (I did).

Then, it rang! Hurrah! My stomach did a nervous turn.

It was my mother. She wondered if I’d like to run an errand with her. Why yes, I would. Anything to distract me from the phone.

I like my phone most of the time. It’s pink, and it takes pictures, and I like the satisfying sound it makes when I snap it closed. Today, though, it was the frustrating symbol of silence.

I spent the afternoon with my mom and had dinner at my parents’ house, checking my phone (in my pocket) every now and then to make sure I hadn’t missed a call, until it was well after regular business hours. Then I drove home. I parked in the carport and walked over to get my mail. Usually it arrives around lunchtime, but I hadn’t bothered to get it before I left to meet my mother.

And there it was in my mailbox, where it had been patiently waiting since noon (why didn’t I check my mail before I left today?): a letter from the company where I had applied. I could tell from the slim envelope that there was only one sheet inside. I slit it open with one forefinger as I crossed the parking lot in the dusk. “Dear Erin…” (skim over the ‘nice to have met you’ paragraph—ah, there it is)… “We have decided to continue our search.”

So there you have it.

I immediately checked myself over, as though I’d fallen from a second story window and might have broken some ribs. Do I feel…sad? Disappointed? Happy?

I decided that I mostly feel: relieved. I was conflicted to begin with, because although I knew I could do the job competently, it wasn’t going to present much of a challenge for me—and in some ways it would be a step down, since there were more mundane tasks (copying, filing, assembling packets) than in my previous job.

This way, the decision has been made for me. I didn’t have to agonize over whether to accept (or kick myself six months from now, when I’m eating ramen and living in the back of my station wagon, that I didn’t take it when I had the chance). It makes me feel perversely better that, even though they didn’t want to hire me, they didn’t want to hire anyone else, either.

And they may have suspected that I did not intend to stay forever, based on some of the questions the interviewer asked me about my career goals. Maybe, dare I say it, they thought I was overqualified and might be bored?

Well, tomorrow is another day. Of unemployment. I meet with my counselor again on Thursday. He mentioned career assessments he has that I could take, and an exploration of what I want to do with my life.

My mental self-check reveals that I’m feeling nervous but excited about the possibilities before me.