That is the question. It was a huge question looming in my mind during August and drove me to distraction. It caused me to troll Seek.com looking for jobs … any job. There was an obsessiveness about it that has thankfully passed.
It is hard to connect the job obsessed Kim of August to the Lady of Leisure Kim who flitted her way through Copenhagen’s streets looking for knitting supplies and taking photos of pretty flowers. That Kim spoke of being a pioneer in Melbourne and bringing the Tai Tai culture she enjoyed to Melbourne’s ladies. She had latched onto recommendations that she should not work for at least 18 months with enthusiasm. It was as if I had been given permission to not work and I was waving that flag as hard as I could.
Then we moved back and hit a wall of reality. It sounds unpleasant but it wasn’t really. However, reality did alter my thinking. As did standing in the middle of a schoolyard knowing not a single person and feeling like I had landed from another planet. I didn’t feel as if I “fitted” with the women I saw nor could I see that I ever would. The obvious solution was to go get a job.
So I applied for a few positions and landed an interview. The company had conducted a phone interview with me and I knew I had sounded impressive. How could you not be impressed? The job was a doddle and I could do it blindfolded. I knew that, they knew that. Obviously I was called back for an actual interview and I went in feeling somewhat confident.
That is until they started asking me all the questions! I could answer them, don’t get me wrong. The problem was, I thought the questions were stupid and possibly could have been altered to adjust to the particular person being interviewed. I felt that with my previous experience, it was perfectly obvious that I could compose a letter. Great, they said. How would you do it? The stunned look I presented to them may have inadequately expressed what I was thinking. Perhaps it expressed my thoughts to well. Who knows? I walked out of the interview feeling less confident than when I had walked in.
I also felt that I didn’t want the job. It took conversations with my sister, a good friend, my husband, my mum and my landlady to accurately diagnose this. I didn’t want the job and knew it wouldn’t be a good fit. But I wanted a job and if they gave me that one then I could stop looking. Everything would be sorted, everything known and I could go on happily with life. Did I mention that we hadn’t even moved into our house yet?
When faced with the actual day of moving in, that was quickly followed by two weeks of school holidays (which I have survived one week of), I turned to my husband and concluded, “I don’t think my schedule has space for a job.”
I am sure he was mumbling “I DO love her” as he walked away.