After the big Day of the Layoff, I had been hoping to sleep for a few days. To weigh my options. To recover. To figure out how soon I could get to the beach. But alas, people are helpful and nice and want your resume right now! And smart girls don’t let opportunities pass them by. That’s ok, I’ve been known to say I’ll stop moving when I’m dead.
So I polished the resume. I worked with the outplacement firm provided to us. They were uber helpful. I finished an online PMP class they made available for free. (Insert joke here about the PMP acronymn.) They shared with me the latest thinking on how a resume should read … it seems to change all the time.
Another thing they were helpful with was referrals. I received a call one day from a recruiter with a job opportunity (there’s that word again). The outplacement firm had given him my contact info. The position was fairly high level, based in Denver, and required some serious road time for new construction the first couple of years. Now I kind of geek out over new construction and having a big team to manage. I understand the pitfalls of hard hat hair. I own steel toe boots. I like being the glue holding the team together and nudging / pushing / driving them in the right direction. Often it’s more like herding cats, but as long as I have enough cats on the team it can be fun. What I don’t like is having to handle all the technical details myself. Boooring.
So I’m thinking, “Denver? Really, God? OK, I’m keeping an open mind. A road warrior life again? Really??? OK …” Nothing is permanent anymore, so I could always keep the house in Ohio, get an apartment in Denver, and people could visit me there.
After making it through some phone screens, a videoconference interview, and an online personality / psych / Mensa evaluation I was invited to come out to Denver. Great, I thought, at the very least I’ll have a lovely trip to Denver. Maybe I’ll even like it. Maybe I’ll meet my rich future husband at the local Starbucks and this job search will be irrelevant.
One night I was driving through New Albany on my way home from dance class. There’s a church in Westerville that offers free social dance classes on a fairly regular basis. So I was learning to rhumba. Working on both my physical and spiritual grace. I do have rhythm; physical coordination not so much. Anyway … I have Third Day cranked in the car and my phone goes off. It’s my new friend the recruiter. The company is concerned about my non-compete agreement with my previous employer – they’re actually looking at other people coming from the same place – and what exactly are the terms.
I spent the next, I don’t know, two or three-ish weeks going back and forth. The trip was on again, it was off again. At one point they told me it was on again and they wanted me on a plane within a few hours. And then it was off again. They had me going back to my previous employer for more clarification. My previous employer said go forth, this one’s of no concern, and we don’t want to keep you from being employed. And ultimately it was all off for good. Denver said they weren’t going to touch anyone from my previous employer unless they were past their non-compete period.
Um, yeah. A couple weeks of craziness all for naught. Well except for the learning experience, which was actually pretty valuable. And the best part? That night the recruiter called me on my drive back from dance class? My car has the awesome-cool Sync lady who listens to me tell her what to play on my iPod. And she displays on the dashboard what song and artist are currently playing. I had turned down the volume while I was on the phone, and the next song had come on. I hung up the phone, turned up the volume, and glanced over at the words staring me in the face … Trust In Jesus. OK …
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