Another small thing to carry me through the weekend

Late yesterday afternoon when I checked my work e-mail for the last time I had a new message.  A search committee wants to interview me regarding a fellowship application I sent back in December.  Great!  At the very least, I get more interview practice.  It is also encouraging to think that maybe decisions on this fellowship are just starting to be made.  It’s  a program for which you send one application and could potentially be matched with a number of different institutions, and at the time I thought there were several for which I was qualified, so with luck maybe I’ll hear from another one or two.  At an informational session about this fellowship one of the program directors said that sometimes decisions aren’t finalized until June.  While I very much hope I have a job before then, it’s encouraging to think that there might still be places out there that haven’t ruled me out.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to note that the way the e-mail was phrased made me feel good.  It included something about “the search committee is excited about your application”–that’s not verbatim but the overall tone was not so much “you are one of a list of candidates we have determined might be suitable according to our algorithms” but “it was really nice to read your application materials, we’re eager to get to know you better.”  If you are on the hiring side, know that two minutes spent adjusting a sentence can make a big difference to how a candidate interprets your message.  Similarly, when you reject people, why not spend an extra minute to give them a rejection that expresses regret, instead of one which only states that they didn’t measure up?  It’s a small thing, but one which is important to the person on the other end.  Remember Mr. Fezziwig.

If you are celebrating a holiday tomorrow, I wish you a very happy day.  If you aren’t, I wish you a wonderful day anyway.  I noticed two more clumps of crocuses in the backyard this afternoon: deep yellow.  Daffodils can’t be too far behind.

In which I am overcome by the kindness of others

I have a group of online friends who are absolutely and without qualification awesome.  They are the best friends anyone could have.  They are smart and talented and quirky and brave.  One of them will know the answer to just about anything, and if no-one knows, someone will know whom to ask.  To say they are supportive is like calling the buttresses of Notre Dame Cathedral utilitarian props.  You know who you are, friends.

To tell you the truth today wasn’t going very well.  I’ve tried to create a habit of focussing on positive things on Fridays (so very appropriate today, which is Good Friday).  This morning I was having trouble.  Honestly, none of it seemed that good.  I did my taxes.  It was a grim exercise.  Considering my annual finances left me composing a mental list of Things to Do Differently once I have a real salary.  Which naturally led to worries about what will happen if I don’t get a real salary.  I have a house to live in now, but what will happen if I can’t pay rent?  And what if the landlord does decide to put the house on the market, as he mentioned a couple of days ago?  The sky is grey and glowering and hard as I tried I couldn’t convince myself I am fortunate.  I just wasn’t feeling it.

I went to an appointment and came back weepy and confused.  My feelings are a writhing mass of contradictions: I know I’m lucky in many ways, but there are still securities I’d like which I don’t yet have (continued health insurance, a steady income, a growing retirement fund, living in a place without an expiration date).  I’m no better or more special than anyone else, but it makes no sense that it is so hard to find a job with a PhD.  I believe in education for its own sake, but I’m pissed at myself that I lost 12 years of income and retirement contributions pursuing education.  Tears of frustration and hopelessness were shed today.

When I got back home this afternoon there were two things on the porch.  I couldn’t remember ordering anything, but it’s always possible that PILW ordered something and didn’t mention it.  After putting my bike away I opened the front door and retrieved the parcels.  One was a small square box from a place called choco-somethingorother.  The other was a padded envelope, addressed to me.  Where the sender’s address would go, it said “RAK, friend group”.  In another corner of the label was a small message:  “Somebody loves you”.

Honestly, that was enough right there.  Here was I, having a pretty close to awful day, and I come home to an anonymous message from someone in a group I love and trust.  Whoever you are, know that your pen wields the power to transform my attitude from despair to delight.  The interior shape seemed like a book, and that’s great! I love books of all kinds.  And it’s the kind of thing my friends would do: have a good book, you’ll feel better.

But when I opened the envelope, it wasn’t a book. It was a Kindle.  Brand new. I stood there at the kitchen table with the envelope in one hand and the kindle box in the other, blinking fast and furiously.  Speechless.  Some time ago I mentioned that my old Kindle died and could not be resuscitated. I have no idea if someone remembered that and thought it would be nice to get me a new one, or if they simply thought a Kindle is a nice thing to have, or if… whatever.  It doesn’t matter.  The point is, someone noticed that I’d been having some tough times lately and thought “Let’s let her know we are thinking about her and maybe cheer her up a little.”  And it worked.  It so totally worked.  There is no signature on the card, so maybe it was a joint effort?  However it happened, thank you.

Still in a daze from discovering a surprise Kindle on my doorstep, I turned to the petite white box.  The markings of “fragile” and “keep cold” looked promising.  I slit the tape on the top and began to excavate the peanuts.  After shoveling away several handfuls I found one of my favorite dark chocolate bars!  No–wait.  Two.  Four–holy cow.  A small fortune of dark chocolate was packed into that box.  One of my favorite brands.  The card said “Happy Easter.  Love, Mom and Stepdad.”

I lost it.  I put my face in my hands and bawled.  You know how it is when it feels as if the world is kicking you.  You grit your teeth and want to kick back.  Then when someone smiles at you out of the blue the kindness does what no amount of punching could do: it buckles you at the knees and you collapse.  Or at least I do.  It is one of those small miracles of the mundane that these things both arrived today when I was battling all kinds of demons.

Thank you Mom.  I love you.

Thank you friends.  I love you all.

Now I feel as if I could make a list of good things, but really, this story is enough.  To enumerate would be superfluous.

I hate writing cover letters.

Two more applications filed today.  I almost got to three, but I don’t know if I can face another cover letter.  As a genre, the cover letter is a) boring b) repetitive c) grammatically questionable d) replete with dire vocabulary e) of dubious truthiness f) did I mention dull?  Cover letters hit the sweet spot of being formulaic enough to be tedious but not enough alike that you can use exactly the same one over and over.  True, now that I have a few different examples I can re-use a lot of the text, but each one still has to be tailored to the correct company.  It helps (we are told) to insert some language from the job ad into the cover letter too.  And, if possible, come up with some catchy, convincing reason why you want to work for that particular company.

What do you call those spiral bound books in three sections, where the top section has a bunch of different heads, the middle has torsos, and the bottom has feet?  You can flip the sections independently to create different monsters.  Google appears to recognize them as Mix and Match Flip Books.  Amazon has one on fashion here.  (Come to think of it, that’s a very good tool for costume inspiration).  Anyway, we need something like that for cover letters.  Mix and match different sections.  The form is made for satire.

Dear HR Professional:

I am writing to apply to the recently advertised Gazebo Quality Assurance Associate position.  My knowledge of gazebo construction, my sitting ability, and my decades of experience testing porches and decks make me an ideal candidate for this job.

Yawn.

Dear Search Committee:

I am excited at the opportunity to apply my decades of experience testing porches and decks to your Gazebo Quality Assurance Associate position.  I can offer you expertise in sitting, experience critiquing outdoor carpentry of all kinds, and and expert ability to evaluate gazebo views.  These traits, combined with my passionate dedication to customer service and to the company’s mission of “A Restful Gazebo for Every Budget”, make me a perfect candidate for this position.

Well, that’s maybe got a little more pep, but see what I mean? It’s hard to get excited about this.

Dear Gazebo Company:

Gazebos have been my favorite things since I was a small child.  When I was three years old I had a life-transforming experience in a gazebo overlooking a wooded river valley.  I have dedicated my adult life to the study, construction, and evaluation of gazebos.  Working as your Gazebo Quality Assurance Associate would mean the fulfillment of a long-held dream for me.

The personal touch. A little overdone, perhaps?

Hey,

omg saw yr opening for GQAA so excite squee!  I totally adore gabezos, they are so much fun.  Im rly good at QA five yrs in ice cream testing call me. thx!

Mmmm, no.

Meanwhile, my probably last academic conference is coming up in a couple of weeks and I so very much do not want to go.