What You’ll Never Hear Donald Trump Say: You’re Hired!

(Link below fixed…I think)

Well Mother’s Day as a “day” was shit. Thank god I have the other 364 days to make up for its singular full on suck. Sparring Partner and I had a humongous fight. I’m almost afraid to mention that a bloody nose was involved, but before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, it was the bloody nose that actually brought on the fight. It took about 24 hours before Sparring Partner and I were talking to each other again.

Of course I had to break the ice because Monday morning my sister and I were going to The Metro to do some bonding over shoe shopping and being that annoying couple of women who talk and giggle at each other through the dressing room walls and I wanted to spend some moola. We had planned the trip a week earlier, so I had been trying to figure out what was lacking from my closet. What is NOT lacking from my closet was the too-small and out-dated office-appropriate clothing that I noticed were getting a fine sifting of dust.

I was trying to get Aitch distracted by breakfast and Dora when my phone rang and it was a local number. My stomach lurched. I knew it was coming and I both dreaded it and anticipated it with hope. I was being offered a job.

Backing up a bit: a couple of weeks ago I received a phone call from a speciality clinic in town. I had applied for a position in their office but I was not hired, however a different position within the clinic came open and my resume was reconsidered. I interviewed with the physician and the person I would be replacing, and while I knew I would be a great fit, I had already mentally geared myself for a summer off to be with the kids. My first summer as a SAHM. Landscaping projects that had been blown off for the past couple years were restarted.

But as with all the good interviews I have had in the past, I figured that yet again I would be overlooked. A couple of days later I received another phone call from the clinic requesting a second interview. Again it went well (it wasn’t one of those canned-questions-with-canned-answers kind of interview that I loathe. It was a let’s-sit-down-and-get-to-know-each-other kind of interviews, which I prefer for their casual honesty. Admittedly, the physician is well-liked, respected, popular. I could do worse, I thought, after the second interview. That’s when I knew I wouldn’t get the job: because now I wanted it.

That leads us back to Monday morning’s phone call. I accepted enthusiastically and graciously while my daughter, who I walked away from and closed the bathroom door on so I could have a fairly dignified phone conversation with, screamed and cried for me. I nearly changed my mind when she wailed, “I want you! Mommy! I want youuuuu!!”

It was her face that was in the forefront of my mind when I finally called my husband. I was in the car, driving out of town, my daughter content once again at home with Grandma nearby. I announced I had a job and then I cried while my heart broke.

When I start to get weepy, like I am now writing about that moment, I remind myself of how I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. The specialist is top-notch. The clinic is under a corporation and there are health insurance benefits and investment opportunities. I’ll be able to utilize my decade of experience at the hospital. And the cherry? During my probationary period, they will start me at the salary I was making at the hospital and then I’ll be eligible for a raise.

It took 36 months from the time we were referred to a Reproductive Endocrinologist (July 2005) until we actually had a baby (July 2008). It took me 29 months to find a new job. Wrap your brains around that for a moment.

I went hog-wild on my shopping trip. The credit card’s strip was melting by the time I headed home with several large shopping bags in the back, including one with a pair of these shoes – in blue – and these (one of my fave brands of shoes). While most of what I got was mine, I did get both kids a few things for the summer. Doodicus will probably hate what I got him and that will mean a return trip to The Metro.

My credit card will be cooled by then.