Went rather swimmingly actually.
They went to great lengths to explain that the corporate culture in hell has been going through a regime change, and that all the horrible things I had heard were in the past. They love women and actively recruit them. They realise that they are no good at relationship sales, and are trying to change the culture, to the extent of cold calling competitors and poaching them – like in my case. Apparently the sales manager called me for a chat pretending to be a customer and was so impressed that he called a store manager to get me in for an interview. I’ve never been head hunted before, it was rather flattering.
They offered me the job. Well, to be perfectly frank and earnest, they offered me any job I wanted (within reason). They told me to name my price (but of course I have to pay my own way with sales), and I get to choose where I work. I can pick any of their stores to work out of, or a serviced office. I can start work when it suits me, and choose the sales model that suits me.
All very flattering and wonderful, except….
WHAT THE HELL DO I WANT TO DO?
I’ve been in a funk all day. It’s silly how something that should make you feel 10ft tall and bulletproof has just made me feel like it’s my first day of big school, and all the other kids have new shoes and ribbons in their hair, and I have a second hand school case and one long frumpy braid. I don’t look different, I just think I do, and I can’t possibly interact on a level playing field because in my head I only have one leg and no arms.
If I had to fight for this job, would I feel better about it ? Would I want it more if I felt that I had to struggle for it? Why do I feel like I have a block of concrete tied around my neck, and I am drifting to the bottom of the pool?
Should I become an agent of satan, despite my nebulous and incoherent misgivings? Can I be an agent of regime change, and use my powers for good ? If I was an agent of satan, would my duties be largely ceremonial?
I have “until Christmas” to give them an answer.
Disco Knitter 
Lara, Lara, Lara – I adore you!
you say what everyone else feels but can’t articulate…there are days when I tell myself “I can’t be that gruesome looking because people aren’t physically ill when they see me” because sometimes I really do feel that terrible.
You are who you are, THAT’s why we love you so, and that’s why these people want you to work for them. Talk to your family, do what your heart tells you to do, but never ever feel that you are second rate, because when I’m done slapping our friend from the “gong for putting herslef down, I’ll be over to give you a right talking to – knee socks and hair ribbons don’t sit exams or close sales.
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To their eyes, you obviously have immensely cool and shiny hair ribbons, and the best pair of shoes they have ever seen.
You have fought for this job: you are the person you are, and they obviously really like that. Are you going to tell me it’s been easy getting to be the person you are now?
Keep looking, if you don’t find anything that makes you passionate, have the gig with Satan as insurance.
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“… all the other kids have new shoes and ribbons in their hair, and I have a second hand school case and one long frumpy braid….because in my head I only have one leg and no arms.”
Ahh Lara. Methinks we may be sharing the one low single self-esteem.
x
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