Clouds and rainbows

Bittersweet.  That was the first word to come to mind when the much-anticipated, but much-dreaded, official job offer came.

Tomorrow, as they say, is the first day of the rest of my life.  It will have been 530 days since the last day I actually worked (before starting my sabbatical), 347 days of being unemployed (after ending my sabbatical, and losing my job), and 286 days of job hunting (after taking the summer off to play).

The bitter part is about the end of an experiment with freedom.  During this experiment, I was free to get up each day whenever I felt like.  I was free to choose anything I wanted to do each day, with or without Colin.  I was free to go to bed each night whenever I felt like.  I was completely in charge of me and my time, reporting to no one.  I was free.  Bitter is perhaps rather harsh - the feeling is more of a nostalgic sadness.

The sweet part is about the work on which I am about to embark.  Starting the hunt at the beginning of September last year, I contacted 47 people, passed out 22 resumes, and attended 21 meetings or interviews.  In a small handful of those, I discovered something that could make me excited, and people I could potentially be happy to work with.  And of that handful, only one job was "right up my alley", as many of my friends have commented - the one I am about to start.

I did not receive a single interview from resumes submitted to online job posts.  I received only one courtesy PFO from those online submissions.  It was like I clicked submit, and off the bits and bytes flew, disintegrating into the deep void of suspended bits and bytes from all those lost emails and submissions that never made it through to reassembly at destination.  As for the actual meetings and interviews, nearly all were a result of a contact initiated through friends, friends of Colin's, or myself.  Except one.

Remember another experiment, where I hand delivered a resume?  Earlier in March this year, I printed off a copy of my resume, along with a note, and personally dropped it off at a place in which I was very interested.  That, my friends, is what led to this bittersweet moment.