The Interview/The Week
The interview
I interviewed for a job on Tuesday. I had sent my resume in for a position dealing with transition-age youth, meaning those within the "system" that are transitioning from children's services to adult services. It was a 30 hour per week job - perfect! The woman that called me from this company informed me that the youth position had been filled, but she wondered if I'd be interested in another, similar position that was full time. I listened to her spiel, and I was interested, so we arranged an interview time.
The interview went well, from my perspective. They asked questions that were pertinent to the work and let me know that we were all on the same page as far as our approach to serving this group of people. I would love to work there. I was invited to come and "shadow" someone for a half day to get a feel for what the job would really be like. But I kept thinking about that 40 hour week. They were very flexible with how you could fulfill those 40 hours - start early, work late, work longer hours and get a three day weekend every other week, etc. Add on to that a 1 1/2 hour commute each day. So I came home and did the math. And I did the math again because I didn't like the answer. And then I tried it another way and it still didn't come out right. And I could feel the opportunity slipping away. There was no way to do this job at 40 hours and stay sane in the process.
So I called the hiring supervisor and told her that I'd been looking at the situation and felt that I would not be able to work 40 hours per week, but that 32 hours would work really well. I asked if that was even a conversation we could have and she said, "No," and gave me the reasons why, which were perfectly normal and expected. And she said if my situation changed to let her know and I said I really liked the company please let me know if anything changes from your end and that was the end of it.
I have really mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, my feminist man-hater side is screaming INJUSTICE! If I were a man, I could just take any job I wanted and have the rest of the family run around and make everything pull together! If I were a man I wouldn't have to think about how to get the laundrydonekidsfedofftoschoolgroceriesboughthousecleanmedstaken AND do a job on top of it. I just want to do what I want to do sometimes and not have to think about the repercussions. I really hate June Cleaver.
On the other hand, my kinder, gentler side says I did the right thing. I honestly don't want to be roped into a 40 hour week, which with drive time would be a 47 1/2 hour week, and we all know social work positions rarely wrap up nicely at the end of an 8 hour day. I want time to garden, read, learn Spanish fluently. I want to be able to help my kids with their homework if (when) they need it. I want to be there or have Paul here shortly after they get home from school. I want balance. I still hate June Cleaver, but she can do her thing and I will do mine. Just don't make me be her.
So, I'm back at it. Combing my sources for job openings. Making a list of interesting prospects. Calling to inquire whether or not 32 hours a week is an option. I am on my proverbial knees a lot more, too. I am reminded of Watchman Nee's book Sit, Walk, Stand. Basically, sit and listen. Wait for peace. Walk it out. Then stand. Stand on the promise and know. I find myself going back to the sense of peace we had when we considered this move an awful lot lately. I remember thinking this is an unreal peace we have about this move. That was a little unsettling. What did God have in store for us that we would need this intense, unwavering sense of peace to stand on over and over again? We knew we were in for it and yet we knew it was right. So this is part of it. I'll just keep at it.
The week
Well, that was my week. Lots of thinking. And Paul is slowly getting over his chest cold, which turned into bronchitis so he's been real fun to have around. And I do so well when he is sick - so caring, and nurse-like, all hugs and service and 'can I get you anything, dear?' Yeah, whatever. The real story is that every time he coughs I think I'm going to gag, too, and it gives me a headache to watch him eat Oreos and Cola when he's on antibiotics so I stay far away. Like in the basement. I really want my bed back, but I'm already Nurse Rachit (sp?), so I am just waiting it out.
Last night, the kids and I went to Jackson Bottom, a wetland preserve here in Hillsboro. We LOVED it! They had a special program with live raptors, all sorts of hands-on bones to touch and pelts to identify, a night hike on the trail and the Rose City Star Gazing club out to look at stars through these huge telescopes. (I caught Stephen and Thomas trying to convince one guy that there had to be life on other planets and that the government has been covering it all up for a long time. Area 51 and all that. Conspiracy, you know.) So before we do any more star-gazing, I will be giving them the 'please don't embarrass me' lecture...
I interviewed for a job on Tuesday. I had sent my resume in for a position dealing with transition-age youth, meaning those within the "system" that are transitioning from children's services to adult services. It was a 30 hour per week job - perfect! The woman that called me from this company informed me that the youth position had been filled, but she wondered if I'd be interested in another, similar position that was full time. I listened to her spiel, and I was interested, so we arranged an interview time.
The interview went well, from my perspective. They asked questions that were pertinent to the work and let me know that we were all on the same page as far as our approach to serving this group of people. I would love to work there. I was invited to come and "shadow" someone for a half day to get a feel for what the job would really be like. But I kept thinking about that 40 hour week. They were very flexible with how you could fulfill those 40 hours - start early, work late, work longer hours and get a three day weekend every other week, etc. Add on to that a 1 1/2 hour commute each day. So I came home and did the math. And I did the math again because I didn't like the answer. And then I tried it another way and it still didn't come out right. And I could feel the opportunity slipping away. There was no way to do this job at 40 hours and stay sane in the process.
So I called the hiring supervisor and told her that I'd been looking at the situation and felt that I would not be able to work 40 hours per week, but that 32 hours would work really well. I asked if that was even a conversation we could have and she said, "No," and gave me the reasons why, which were perfectly normal and expected. And she said if my situation changed to let her know and I said I really liked the company please let me know if anything changes from your end and that was the end of it.
I have really mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, my feminist man-hater side is screaming INJUSTICE! If I were a man, I could just take any job I wanted and have the rest of the family run around and make everything pull together! If I were a man I wouldn't have to think about how to get the laundrydonekidsfedofftoschoolgroceriesboughthousecleanmedstaken AND do a job on top of it. I just want to do what I want to do sometimes and not have to think about the repercussions. I really hate June Cleaver.
On the other hand, my kinder, gentler side says I did the right thing. I honestly don't want to be roped into a 40 hour week, which with drive time would be a 47 1/2 hour week, and we all know social work positions rarely wrap up nicely at the end of an 8 hour day. I want time to garden, read, learn Spanish fluently. I want to be able to help my kids with their homework if (when) they need it. I want to be there or have Paul here shortly after they get home from school. I want balance. I still hate June Cleaver, but she can do her thing and I will do mine. Just don't make me be her.
So, I'm back at it. Combing my sources for job openings. Making a list of interesting prospects. Calling to inquire whether or not 32 hours a week is an option. I am on my proverbial knees a lot more, too. I am reminded of Watchman Nee's book Sit, Walk, Stand. Basically, sit and listen. Wait for peace. Walk it out. Then stand. Stand on the promise and know. I find myself going back to the sense of peace we had when we considered this move an awful lot lately. I remember thinking this is an unreal peace we have about this move. That was a little unsettling. What did God have in store for us that we would need this intense, unwavering sense of peace to stand on over and over again? We knew we were in for it and yet we knew it was right. So this is part of it. I'll just keep at it.
The week
Well, that was my week. Lots of thinking. And Paul is slowly getting over his chest cold, which turned into bronchitis so he's been real fun to have around. And I do so well when he is sick - so caring, and nurse-like, all hugs and service and 'can I get you anything, dear?' Yeah, whatever. The real story is that every time he coughs I think I'm going to gag, too, and it gives me a headache to watch him eat Oreos and Cola when he's on antibiotics so I stay far away. Like in the basement. I really want my bed back, but I'm already Nurse Rachit (sp?), so I am just waiting it out.
Last night, the kids and I went to Jackson Bottom, a wetland preserve here in Hillsboro. We LOVED it! They had a special program with live raptors, all sorts of hands-on bones to touch and pelts to identify, a night hike on the trail and the Rose City Star Gazing club out to look at stars through these huge telescopes. (I caught Stephen and Thomas trying to convince one guy that there had to be life on other planets and that the government has been covering it all up for a long time. Area 51 and all that. Conspiracy, you know.) So before we do any more star-gazing, I will be giving them the 'please don't embarrass me' lecture...
posted by Lydia | 9:49 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Lidya! wassup? i just got a blogger thingy for school. it's a sweet assignment, so now i can post on your site!
Love ya!
bethany
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