It's been a great deal of more-of-the-same here in Gladystopia; lots of resumes, a few interviews, and so far no job. I had an interview for a tech-writing position which I knew instantly I'd flubbed; the interviewer was asking me to explain how I would estimate how long a project would take, and I have no skills in that area whatsoever. I don't even know how to go about GETTING skills in that area; to my way of thinking, it goes something like this: someone gives me a task, tells me when they need it, and I get it done. Estimating a schedule...huh? I don't know if part of that is leftovers from Job-Before-Last, where every time I'd estimate something, my boss would change it and give me less time, then fuss when I wasn't done on her schedule; really, I think I just never learned to schedule like that. I'd also sent in a resume for a job I thought was absolutely MADE for me--a Mac tech lead, downtown Chicago, requesting all the skills I had--but when the agent sent my resume to the client, they said I wasn't senior enough. I disagree, but I'm not the one hiring.
There's light at the end of the tunnel, still; I have an interview tomorrow and one sometime next week. The next-week one is for a management position, which I don't really relish; and it's in the far northwest 'burbs, as well--no way do I want to make that commute!!! But according to the recruiter, they're really enthused about my resume. "Do they know I have ZERO management experience?" I asked him; he said apparently they're looking more for a tech who can manage than a manager who can do tech. Still--far northwest suburbs. If they really want me, they're going to have to come up off a LOAD of extra cash.
We're rapidly approaching the "beggars-can't-be-choosers" hour, however; my last severance check comes tomorrow, and then I have to start paying $300/month to COBRA my health insurance. (My test results came back, incidentally; I do have sleep apnea, and they want to start me on the CPAP machine. It's far from the worst thing they could have found, and I'm okay with it, as much as I can be okay with the thought of sleeping with a mask on my face.) I need a job, is the long and short of it; I'll be picky later, but right now I need a paycheck. I just wish someone would offer one!
Oh, and LJ is back. He called Saturday night and told me he'd be back Sunday night, so I picked him up at the train with his friend. He's been out pretty much ever since, but last night his friend stayed over, so instead of LJ sleeping in his own room, he slept in mine, which only just confirmed how much I like my own space. I will not miss this man a bit, when he goes. I think he sees this as The End as well; he's taking all his stuff, his PlayStation and his TV and his stereo, all his CDs and the rims for his Chevy. All the important stuff, in short. I heard him on the phone his first night home (his room shares a wall with the upstairs bath) and from the context, I'm fairly sure he was talking to some female. I was almost surprised by how utterly disinterested I was. This will be one of the more amicable breakups I've had. The only scary spot is that he's taking the truck back to Minnesota, to cart all his belongings; I don't think he'd do anything shady like not bring it back, but everyone around me seems not so sure. Mom, Tim, Dr. J, and Debbi have all said the same thing: "You're letting him use the truck???" Especially since nothing official has been said about breaking up, I don't think he's going to feel like he needs revenge, and the truck isn't worth much now anyway--it's got 160,000 miles and needs repairs. Of course, if he DOES try to keep the truck, I've informed everyone that I will accept any and all declarations of "I told you so," during pre-arranged hours. I just want him gone; this will make it easier for him to go.
Tim and I are still doing fine, though we had an actual argument last night. He was in a bad mood, and he started saying stuff just to get a rise out of me, and I decided I wasn't going to sit around and listen to it. So I went upstairs, and this morning when I came downstairs we both acted like nothing had happened; later on he told me "After I pissed you off last night, I sent myself to my room as punishment. I wanted to watch the game in the living room, but I sent myself to bed instead." I thought that was fairly cool--the fact that he acknowledged that he was being a butthead. (Which he so totally was.) He's depressed, I think, because he hasn't landed a job yet either. I empathize with THAT entirely, though I don't think I'm depressed about it. Nervous, yes; terrified, yeah, kinda. Depressed? Not really. All things considered, I'm fairly lucky. I'd like a job, sure, but things could be a lot, lot worse.
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