I spent most of April interviewing for a new job. I made it to the final round and had good reason to believe I was the lead candidate. As of the beginning of this post, I have not heard anything (I sent a follow up and may know by the time I’m done writing). With each passing day I have increasingly prepared myself for the rejection. What a strange and fascinating mental and emotional process preparing for rejection is. The second-guessing, the defensiveness, the petulance, and ultimately, the resignation. It reminds me of how bad I can be at finding inner peace, of how rocky and full of potholes the road to acceptance is.
Based only on intuition and probably influenced by how much water I drank in a given day, I’ve gone from being ready to go out and celebrate, to thinking hmmm, maybe I was over-confident, to thinking hmmm, maybe I’m not good enough to make it here. Maybe I should move or look elsewhere. What’s the weather like in Portland? Kidding – I love San Francisco.
Mixed in with the self-doubt is a low-level seething over all of the ass-clowns who seem to be successful despite being an ass-clown. The grifters, the nepo-babies, the charlatans. And with every attempt at trying to make it in this world (new jobs or new challenges) I grow increasingly jealous over the people who don’t ever have to prove themselves because in America we believe that fame and wealth not only define success but serve as proof of competence. I often think about the sports stars that are given acting roles or podcasts or record contracts not because they’re competent actors, thinkers, or musicians, but because they’re celebrities. Meanwhile, very competent actors, thinkers, and musicians are working as bartenders or waiting tables while they hope to get their break, however small. Meanwhile trying to switch from an art nonprofit to a music nonprofit (or any two similar roles) is like trying to prove that you can, indeed, achieve herculean feats of strength – and also, let me explain that gap on my resume.
The rat race is exhausting – especially when you realize there’s an entire money-stuffed nest of rats who have all of the cheese and none of the mazes. If I have an aversion to “work” or “proving myself” it’s because I see how rigged the system is and I’ve lost nearly all faith in the notion that hard work pays off or that we live in a meritocracy. But that’s just the old and jaded me ranting because not everything goes my way (and also because we’re living in the new golden era of crony capitalism). Millions of dollars in no-bid contracts, incompetent ass-clowns in consequential positions with unmitigated power, the cancellation of science and arts grants in an effort to end wokeness (cancelled by know-nothing 20-year-olds overzealous in using ctrl+f).
In addition to fighting back the creeping weeds of jadedness (sitting by the water helps a lot), a recurring theme during this waiting period has been to ask myself, “what changes?” Despite trying to remind myself that some future event (a new job) should have no bearing on what I do today, I find myself paralyzed with the “not knowing.” Sure I should get the suit tailored, and apply for other jobs, and get groceries, and answer that one email, but how could I possibly do any of those things with this one big thing hanging out there unresolved? In the world of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, I tend to find myself wanting to run yet encased in several feet of ice. When girlfriends have broken up with me, my world has crashed to a halt. When I’ve been turned down for positions, I’ve holed myself up wondering about the purpose of life. When my writing has been rejected, I’ve taken a step back and asked why I write in the first place. When I anticipate major setbacks, I look for escape routes yet resign myself to a slow death in which I very privately (and maybe even stoically) expire: glue trap, quicksand, drowning, or that hefty dose of hemlock in the bronze-colored chalice.
To be fair, I’m never quite sure if what I’m experiencing is a freeze response or a super-chill form of acceptance or some fucked up defense mechanism that should be discussed with a therapist (maybe all three). When you realize that nobody owes you anything or that a lot of decisions are made that have absolutely nothing to do with you personally, you learn to roll on to the next thing. Unfortunately, this understated form of pragmatism can be mistaken for flightiness or a lack of passion. I’d like to say some of this is a result of having grown older and wiser – or at least more intuitive. I used to be the type of person who carried a chip on their shoulder after setbacks – oh yeah, well I’ll show them. At some point, I crossed over into a mindset that almost accepts defeat as a possible outcome before even starting. It’s not a defeatist attitude, but is instead one forged in the crucible of confidence, experience, and patience. I know I can do good work. I know I can be a good partner. I know I can be a good team member, neighbor, friend, whatever. I’m ok if you choose not to give me a chance, and if I don’t sigh with my head stuck to the glue trap before then, I know someone else will. I’ve had enough things not work out (yet still survived) to trust in the practice of non-attachment.
And yet, for the past few days/weeks, I’ve found myself attached to a desired outcome as though I might will it into existence – all the while ziplining between acceptance and every emotion associated with rejection. And since there’s little I can do about it, I think I’ll go outside, maybe grab a beer and read in the alleyway by the bookstore, maybe watch the pelicans drifting effortlessly above the bay, maybe check my email one more time.