tavie.com

The pressure to find a job mounts. The credit card bills and personal debts mount. My sense of worthlessness and failure as a productive member of society mounts. My guilt at slackerdom mounts. And today my agency called me back.

It's temp-to-perm. I replaced my afternoon anthro class with an evening one and I'll drop the elective that starts at 4 if I end up taking the job. Interview's tomorrow afternoon. It's at St. Vincent's, a hospital in the Village that I have a fair amount of experience with. Not my number-one choice for place of employment, but at least I'd be on the right side of the automatic-lock door this time. It pays two dollars more an hour than I made at my last job. The rub is, from what I could make out of the job description-- the guy from my agency had a very thick accent, very hard to undestand-- it sounds like something I'd sort of not like very much at all. It sounds like it involves talking to people, doctors and the like. So, that's the part that worries me. The talking to people. I get the feeling it's sort of a running-back-and-forth sort of job, exactly the sort of thing I wouldn't like. Communicating with people. Asking and answering questions. Exactly the opposite of my forte. Do you see my dilemma? I need the money, I need the job, but I'm terrible with people, terrible, and, dammit, full-time work and full-time school-- will I ever graduate?

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. So, wish me... luck? I guess?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:20 PM | shower me with attention