Waiting

I am not a patient person.

There's a really dumb Time Warner commercial where the dude is talking about how much he hates waiting. At one point he's staring at a microwave menacingly with a baseball bat, as waiting for his popcorn to pop has become too much for him.

I identified with that man.

So, about a month ago, I applied for a job at a company I was very excited about possibly being a part of. I interviewed three times with five different people, all very lovely and positive experiences. And then I began what I am now calling "The Ordeal."

The first week of the Ordeal was pretty normal. I felt good about all my interviews and knew that the company would take a few days to get back to me. Their HR lady was kind enough to send me an update two days after my last interview letting me know that I could expect closure early the next week. The very next day, she sent me an apologetic email, letting me know that, due to some unexpected staff changes, the position I applied for no longer existed. There was, however, an opening for a slightly less glamourous job, and, was I interested?

After thinking about it for roughly sixteen seconds (I realllllllyyyyyyyyy wanted out of my current job at Horrible Company, Inc.) I said, why yes, I was interested. Great! she replied promptly, we can set up an interview for next Wednesday.

Ok, I thought, another interview. No big deal, it's probably just a formality, and I'm sure they can make up their minds pretty quickly. I was wrong.

The interview had to be pushed back a week because somebody selfishly went on vacation. Then the job description changed slightly and they wanted to know if I was still ok with it.

Then I finally did interview, and it was a lovely and positive experience. The interviewers assured me that I would hear from the nice HR lady soon, probably in the next couple of days.

And then, nothing. I waited a week in nervous anticipation, checking my phone and my email constantly in blatant disregard for my company's policies and procedures. It's a wonder I wasn't caught and fired immediately (I would have been ok with that). I turned into a nervous shell of a person, nibbling at my fingernails and cuticles like a rabid gerbil and slowly driving my husband insane with my nightly wonderings of what the hell was taking them so long.

Finally, I got an email. It was the HR lady! Glancing nervously over my shoulder to ensure my boss wasn't looking, I opened it. The HR lady wanted to know if I was still interested in the job and how I felt the last interview went.

Really? I thought huffily. Seriously?

I sent a (possibly too) brief reply restating that yes, yes I was still very interested and that the interview had been a lovely and positive experience.

Great! She replied. We should have some more information for you in the next couple of days.

I had a mild breakdown.

The next three days were sheer torture for me. The stress of working somewhere I didn't want to be anymore while still trying to do the best job possible, plus the infuriating and seemingly endless wait I was enduring turned me into a raving psycho bitch. My coworkers avoided me. My pets slinked away when they heard my step. The plants in our house wilted when my shadow fell on them. My husband put on his headphones and played Warcraft for hours at a time. He told me he was playing with his online buddies and had to concentrate and listen, but I know better, and do not blame him.

Finally, I got a sort-of answer. It was positive and amounted to an unofficial offer of employment. It was enough to go ahead and give my resignation letter (drawn up six months ago) to Horrible Company, Inc.

I still don't have an official offer, but the HR lady assures me I will get it early next week.

She also thanked me for my patience.

My new office will have a wall-mounted baseball bat, just in case.

The Absolute Worst Possible Day Ever

So I have a tendency to overreact. The littlest thing can send me into a spiraling maelstrom of completely unwarranted mental reactions, which naturally make the situation even more melodramatic. I thus suffer significant personal crises on an almost daily basis and frequently experience complete psychological breakdowns. These usually occur one to two days after the initial stimulus and in the most embarrassing places possible, like the line at the grocery store or at my lady parts doctor's office.

My overreactions also tend to make any mildly disappointing day into The Absolute Worst Possible Day Ever. I have these weekly. A quick synopsis of
The Absolute Worst Possible Day Ever:

4:00am - wake up to let small neurotic dog outside, where he will stand, trembling slightly and staring at me, whining faintly, for 15 minutes before peeing.
5:30am - let small dog out again, where he will unleash a volley of incredibly high-pitched yips specifically calibrated to wake the neighbors.
6:30am - get up for real.
6:35am - discover we are out of coffee (mild weeping may occur).
7:15am - leave for work.
7:16am - discover that I left bagged lunch on countertop in kitchen.
8:00am - arrive at work, glowering.
8:30am - 12:00pm - spend morning in haze of self-pitying resentment, where any little annoyance will significantly darken my mood and I will sigh loudly, profoundly, and frequently.
12:05pm - lunchtime, where I will discover that, in addition to my lunch, I left my wallet at home as well. I will be forced to scavenge like some feral creature in the office condiment drawer for a less than satisfying lunch of saltines and McDonald's barbecue sauce.
12:45pm - coworker will interrupt my lunch with minor problem that they could have handled themselves. Usually involves some aspect of Microsoft Office.
3:00pm - mandatory 2 hour staff meeting that I forgot to prepare for
5:00pm - leave work at crisp jog
5:15pm - hit traffic jam size of New Hampshire
5:17pm - discover all radio stations are playing non-stop Katy Perry marathon, decide universe is against me.
6:30pm - arrive home, find cats have peed on clean laundry.
6:31pm - dissolve into self-pitying blob, beg husband to order takeout for third night in a row, as I have just had The Absolute Worst Possible Day Ever.

Then, after having such an awful day, I will call up a friend to vent and garner some sweet, sweet sympathy. This conversation usually goes someone like this:

Me: "Uggggghhhhh, I just had the The Absolute Worst Possible Day Ever!!!!! We ran out of coffeeeeee and I had a sauce for luuuuuuuunch!!!!!! Pity meeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!"
My long-suffering friend: "My grandma died and I got laid off."
Me: "...."

And everything pops into perspective. I vow to be more positive/sensitive to those around me and care more about other people. A sense of new life and purpose floods into me. I see myself as a ministering angel to those around me, spreading joy and peace and inspiration. I arrange my face into an understanding, soft smile. I glide about the house on wings of mercy, asking my husband, the pets, and the houseplants if there's anything I can do for them.

Then we run out of coffee again.

Fml.