graphic_z2b_barkley_titleToday I am once again reminded of what not to do when looking for work. And, as my title illustrates, I’ve done that thing three times now.

The first time I did the thing I was only a couple of weeks into my job search. I got an email from a friend of a friend, and that friend of a friend was starting a new company. He had work for me. It was exactly the kind of work I had been doing previously, it was local-ish, and it seemed like a great fit. Yay!

Through no fault of my own, that work fell through. (The company never actually took off.)

The second time I did the thing was somewhat recently. I was actually hired–that’s HIRED–by a company. A real, established company. To do exactly the kind of work I had been doing previously. I went to my first meeting–taking a two hour bus ride each way–and met with the other new hires and those who had hired me. I was told that I had the best resume of anyone they had ever interviewed (yay me). And then I was told that they actually can’t use me because they’ve decided to only work with people who are super-local (read: they don’t want to spend money on travel. I get it. Bottom line and all). And until there’s work near where I live (which there will never be, because of how my state works) they can’t use me.

I actually cried that time.

Which brings us to today. A few days ago, I had an introductory interview for a position which would be notably different than what I was doing before, but still related. Said introductory interview went really well, and all of a sudden I found myself considering a totally new field. And I was excited about it.

A few minutes ago, I learned that they are going with someone from inside the company (of course they are. That’s legitimately their best move.)

So what is the thing that I did in each and every one of these situations? I had hope. And hope does stupid things to a person.

Hope makes you feel like maybe it’s all going to be ok eventually. (It’s not.)

Hope makes you feel like maybe you can take a day or two off from desperate job searching. (You can’t.)

Hope makes you buy a falafel for lunch. (Falafel is for people with jobs. Never forget this.)

And so, as I move forward–or, in my case, continue to sit in this cursed desk chair–I shall abandon all hope. Because this? This is hell. And that’s what you’re supposed to do here.