Flurry

Amid the hustle and bustle of everything else going on in my life -- like dealing with various frequently-unhappy family situations, stepping aside from my photography business, and spring cleaning -- I finally heard back from that awesome job that I've been waiting to hear back from.

You know, the one that would afford me independence from my family and still allow me to (kinda) support them at the same time? The one for which I interviewed twice and filled out an extensive (26 page) personal history statement?
Yeah, that one.

The investigator working on my background check called me to say that the entire thing has been scrapped. Apparently, the budgeting committee decided to not approve the positions, which leaves those of us who were deemed as "desirable to hire" in the lurch.

As he was speaking to me, I was fairly flabbergasted and it took me a few moments to process what he was saying. He reassured me that it was nothing in my background, that everything had looked great up to that point, but that it was the people in charge of appropriating funds who decided that it was not worth hiring on new positions at this point.

I get it.
I do.
It was a city position, and those are publicly-raised monies: those types of positions require a group decision on how to allocate the funds.

That doesn't mean that the result of their decision doesn't deal me a great blow, because it does.

Like I said, I was fairly flabbergasted when he was telling me this, because the budget was due to be approved on December 21 -- nearly three weeks ago. I think 12/21 was the date I notarized and mailed my personal history packet. I thought everything was A-OK.

But, at the same time, over the last month, I was so confident and sure that everything was going to be great: that I was going to have a professional, permanent position that would allow me to grow and have other opportunities. Then, earlier this week, a black hole -- a brick wall -- appeared when I was thinking about the job, like it fell off the face of the earth. I basically took it to mean that I wasn't going to get the job, and was grateful that I preemptively reapplied with the courts for a support services position a few weeks ago. I took my sureness at not getting the job just to be lack of self-confidence, and my boyfriend did, too.

He was with me in the car when I got the call yesterday, though, when I found out the job has, pretty much, fallen off the face of the earth.

The investigator said that the position may become available again as the year progresses, but there is no guarantee. I asked him what would happen if it did: would I have to reapply? He said probably, but would check for sure.

I hope not.

There are five of us who have already gotten to this point. We've passed every test so far, won over the interviewers, and spent up to weeks gathering our information for the personal history statement. We should be the first ones contacted, in my opinion, to see if we are still interested in the position, should it reopen.
That probably won't be the case, because there could be a new candidate in the employment pool at that point that might be better suited for the position.
I would like to point out, however, that the chances of the same five people still being unemployed or seeking a similarly situated position by the time that the position reopens are not guaranteed, and so there are still some chances of finding a new face to replace the ones who are no longer available or desirous of the position.

When he calls back to tell me whether or not the possible-future position would require reapplication, I should express to him the disappointment that I should have expressed yesterday, because I was really looking forward to this job.

Oh well.

There's a new position on the courts website for a judicial assistant.

Time to chug along and apply for that one. The least it will cost me is a few minutes of updating my profile on the website and verifying the accuracy of my previously-entered employment information for their database.

Ce la vie.
Que sera, sera.