A terrible, sinking feeling

They say when you're unemployed, your full time job becomes the search for a new job. Because I am a strong believer in work/life balance, I also add variety to my day, dedicating time slots my life-long pursuit of watching as many TV series on DVD as possible. And, being that unemployment can be an especially anxious time, I find that I become even more emotionally involved than usual with the Gilmore Girls, the Sex and the City ladies and the Smallville folk.

I really can't call it a day until I have cried at something that happened between my favorite peeps in Stars Hollow, New York City or Smallville. Today? It was the look on Lex's face when Clark/Cal-El stole back the little crystal he dedicated his life to find. Yesterday? It was when Loralai proposed to Luke after watching Rory take the first step to their estrangement as mother and daughter. And then there's always the quintessential tearjerker, sure to bring you down from even the highest level of elation: Aidan's proposal to Carrie.

But I digress.

I suppose it makes sense that if my full time job is to find a new job, then I would eventually have to dust off my powergirl blazer, creased trousers and pumps (aka "interviewing garb") and head into the corporate wilderness to be a chipper, go-getting, can-do job candidate. For me, today was that day.

I typically enjoy job interviews because I get to spend an hour talking about how great I am. While most people cringe at the thought, I am a natural marketer and just pretend I'm telling my mom about getting picked in class to read my book report as an example of excellence. True, I was never chosen by the teacher as the student everyone should try to be, but I always wanted to be that person, and job interviews are my little way of making up for the fact that Laurel Druid was always going to that much more creative, that much cuter and that much more worthy of being homecoming queen than I was. Each interview is worth about five therapy sessions in itself!

Today I took a little twist in approach and, instead of picturing my mom in the interviewer's chair, I made believe that I was in my very own "Behind the Music" video. I talked about my most successful marketing campaigns. I commented thoughtfully on the environments I thrive in. I paused and glanced heavenward, searching for exactly the right words to express my passion for writing brochures. By the end of the session, my interviewer had laughed with me, cried with me and was about to print an offer letter with a six-figure salary when she realized she needed to meet with four other candidates first. "Don't worry, Cella," she said as she wiped away her last tear. "In all my years here, I've never met someone as perfect for this job as you. In fact, you're perfect for my job and I wouldn't be at all surprised if I was reporting to you within six months! I hope you have room in your bank account for many, many more zero's!"

Okay, that didn't happen. But what did happen included listening to her speak for a solid half hour about her current projects, the level of frenzy in the office, the lack of process to keep things running smoothly, and the fact that it's a fun culture, though it definitely does not operate on a 9-5 schedule. Guessing from the number of projects on her corporate plate, I'm fairly sure she does not mean that she strolls into the office around 10, cuts out for a long lunch around noon, and hits the road by 4:30, which is how my work life devolved at my last company.

"But... but... how do you find time to keep up with emailing all of your friends?" I wanted to ask. Instead I smiled in a way that I hoped did not look like a deer caught in headlights and told her I was very impressed with all the good work she'd done on the materials she gave me at the beginning of the interview. I tried not to think about all the message boards she could not participate in, or all the "panic buttons" she never had to hit on entertainment web sites when her boss walked by.

I guess her office had never heard of the movement that has declared "mediocrity" as the new "excellence." One of the most shocking things about becoming a grown up has been the discovery that, in the corporate world, you don't have to work very hard to be considered an over-achiever. Apparently this concept does not extend to the development offices of leading-edge hospitals. Maybe it's because she doesn't work at a technology company, where intermittently-driven folks have learned that they can work really hard for a few weeks, followed by a few more weeks conducting "research," which really means they can surf the web eight hours a day.

Or maybe the lesson is all mine, as I discover that my last company was the only office in the world that was filled with apathetic workers, over-paid and under-challenged, spending their days refilling their coffee cups and collecting pay checks. Oh, the horror! I have a terrible, sinking feeling that my next job is going to require me to actually work for a living.

I've always wondered what that would be like. I've actually harbored a silent envy of my busy friends who take a few days to reply to the emails I send them. The friends who, supposedly, are so busy being productive that they hardly have time to eat lunch, let alone send smoke signals to loved ones informing us they are still alive. In my last job, when things would slow down, I used to click around from news site to entertainment site, daydreaming what it would be like to have a to-do list chock full of productive-sounding activities. I had a to-die-for to-do list in college, and while it's always nice to have down time, there really is nothing like coming home after a busy day, feeling good about what you contributed to the greater good.

Yes, I've had my glory days of feeling like I earned my keep as an employee. I've burned the midnight oil when I've had to. But, for the most part, I've worked at a place that respects the fact that employees are people too -- people with families to tend to, hobbies to enjoy, TV series to watch on DVD. I've been lucky.

Today was a bit of a rude awakening that I may not find another company that embraces goofing-off as much as my last employer did. In all seriousness, I came to depend on the fact that I could leave during the day to go to a doctor's appointment if I had to, or take a lunch hour to walk in the woods behind my office to clear my head. Are there other places out there that don't expect you to live, breathe and dream the company? Is it possible to find a cozy place that will give you the paycheck of the American Dream, without the American tendency to exploit their workers? Is this something I just have to deal with, grinning around the water cooler with my business casual-clad coworkers while daydreaming of what's behind the concrete garage blocking the view? Is it time to ditch office work and seek another career all together?

I wonder what pirates are making these days.