A Full Time Job

I had an interview for a full time job, you know, the kind where you work grown-up hours. I was so nervous that I was thisclose to barfing and/or crying the entire 20 hours leading up to it. But it was surprisingly brief and painless. At least, I think it was painless. Maybe it was painful in the way you get hurt and don’t realize you were hemorrhaging until you’re dead. I have to wait until Monday to find out if I’m getting hired I guess but this wait is much less anxiety-inducing. 

I feel like getting a full time job at this age and in this situation is dancing in dangerous territory. This is how it begins, you know: You’re off from school and looking for work. You accidentally fall into this full-time gig and hey, you’ve got nothing but time because you’re not in school right now and besides, more work, more money, and you can support yourself! That’s exciting, the thrill of being self-sufficient. And you’ll still have funds left over to save for when you go back, because, at this point, you still plan on going back. And at first maybe you can’t wait to quit, at first, maybe it really is a temporary position to you. But then you get used to it. And you get good at it. And then they give you responsibility. And then the office needs you there and you know the people and you care about the people there so you can’t just abandon them. And then you don’t have the time to go back to school so you say, “I’ll start in summer instead.” 

And then it’s fall semester. 

And then it’s spring semester again.

And then you’re thirty and you’ve delayed going back to college for so long and you already have a good job so who needs it, right? But you’re just saying that because you’ve gotten comfortable and you’re making excuses.

I don’t want to be thirty and making excuses.


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