Waiting Really is the Hardest Part

It's a well-known truth that emotions are often the biggest drive behind the creation of art. I've never heard of someone who made a work with absolutely no emotion behind it. Whether it's a feeling of joviality or depression, there's always an underlying emotion driving a creative work.

I say this now because I have a very peculiar emotion as of now. I recently applied for a job that I didn't want, but was one of the few available that I could perform. After three different interviews, I was told that I would be called by today about whether I would be hired and when they could use me.

But they haven't called.

Now, it's likely they'll call me tomorrow or Friday and that'll be that. But I feel like documenting my emotions in this moment just because I want to remember this odd feeling years from now, when it's long gone and a distant memory.

Anyways, my emotional state can sort of be considered a Morton's Fork. If I get the job, I'll be stuck at a low-paying job that I won't like, all in an effort to simply get more money. If I don't get the job, I'll have no money and have to keep searching for other jobs that'll probably disappoint me. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

A part of me tells me that this is simply a dreary attitude brought upon by boredom. As the late great Tom Petty said:

It's perfectly possible that my attitude will clear up once a clear answer is provided.

But right now, I have the overwhelming feeling that the answer will actually make me more miserable. Either I get a job I hate, or I get no money.

For now, I'm stuck in a strange limbo, where no answer exists. I know the answer will come eventually; either I'll be called and given an answer, or enough time passes without an answer that I can assume that they don't want me. But for now, I'm left thinking about my emotions in a way I wasn't the past few months, and I'm not entirely happy about what I've realized.

I was reading a book by Scott Adams (writer/artist of Dilbert) where he claimed the best way to win was to create situations where there were two ways to win and no ways to lose. Right now, I feel like I'm in the reverse situation: two ways to lose and no way to win.

It's not a fun sensation.

And the worst part? This is all over a dishwashing job. Dishwashing, a job that practically anyone can get and most people leave after a few months (which I'm precisely planning on doing in the event I get this job). I like to think I'm desperate and am just trying to debase myself get money to survive, but I know that's not true. I'm doing it because it's an easy job to get and I can make a quick buck from it. Yet because it's proven to be harder to get, I'm getting the feeling that I'm somehow a failure, that I'm selling out to do a blue-collar job I'm not interested in. Those are the two downsides of an English degree: it's terrible for real world jobs, and it leaves you overanalyzing things to where you can't enjoy things like you used to.

The only consolation I have is that it'll be over soon, and I can deal with whatever unhappy result I'm given by itself. If I get the job, I can grit my teeth and work through the long hours, hoping the money assuages any anger I have. If I don't, I can roll up my sleeves and do a better job at finding another job I might like more.

But as Crosby, Stills and Nash said, I might just be helplessly hoping. I hope not. I want to be happy again someday.