What do You Mean You Hired Another Candidate?: Generation Woe.
Recently, I interviewed for a position that would have been ideal for my personal ethos and goals. Full time, salaried, benefits, shift work as opposed to 9-5, community based and seemingly "grassroots": it was perfect for me. I casually skimmed the posting after being invited to interview, and thought, "I have this one in the bag." Because really, how could they not want me? I graduated at the top of my class with marks in the 90% range, I have both professional and personal experience with the demographic served by the organization, and I use anti-oppressive practices as best I can in all the work that I do. I'm proficient in both physical work and digital work. In my head, I am an ideal candidate for most social service positions.
The interview went as smoothly as possible, considering it's the first interview I've had since applying for and receiving my last retail service job in 2009. I practically skipped down the steps, feeling confident and proud of myself; I updated my Facebook status: "killed it!" After providing my references, and celebrating with a friend, I headed to bed.
And then it hit me. The guilt. The overwhelming, up all night, consider contacting your former employer guilt. I'd slightly exaggerated something, an insignificant detail that had me feeling like I'd lied. Something that made me seem more professional than I felt I deserved. Cue panic.
The weekend passed. On Monday I received a "thank you" email acknowledging receipt of my references. Three more days ambled by until, finally, I got word: the position had been filled.
Ooh, ouch! That smarts! I felt how all those boyfriends probably felt when I told them I was upgrading them to someone better, smarter, richer, queerer, [insert qualifier here]. Licking my wounds involved re-imagining every moment of the interview to try to find where I'd botched it. Could it have been the fib? Could it have been my unfamiliarity with Halifax community services? Could it have been the fact that I answered questions qualitatively rather than quantitatively? It had to have been something, one particular instance, because why else would they have chosen someone else over me? It couldn't have been all of me - it had to be just one moment. I mulled it over until all that was left was compost; my brain was mush.
And then it hit me: I am not entitled to any particular job opportunity, simply because I am all those wonderful, privileged, White, Millenium Generation things. I struggled with this concept and, having grown up in an inconsistent environment that resulted in me parenting myself 80% of the time, I struggled to teach myself yet another important lesson. Falling off the pedestal of self-constructed, university graduate awesome hurts. A lot.
My future employers all recognize my talent, my interpersonal and communication skills. They can see that I am an eager beaver, hoping to find a niche for myself doing meaningful work in vulnerable populations. But what they can't see, what is overshadowed by my sense of entitlement (which is primarily based on grades that don't matter after graduation), is that I am invested in their organizations. That I want to participate in the work that Organization X, Y, or Z is doing.
So, after a 90 minute discussion with an important confidante, I realized it - where I'd gone wrong. Yes, I answered the questions and promoted myself, but when asked, "Do you have any questions for us?" I froze. I tried to look thoughtful as I racked my mind for something intelligent but, having never been taught what to ask, how was I to know?
Parenting yourself in ways that lets life lessons resonate is something that's incredibly difficult to do for a lot of it relies on simple survival as opposed to meaningful moments of learning. In these moments, now, as I attempt to build my reputation and career, the most important lesson for me to teach myself is how to move away from a model of survival and toward a model of active engagement in my own future.
Because it's here. I've graduated. I'm unemployed. Do I want Tumblr to be my future? (Well, blogging is definitely something that will always be with me, but for right now? I think the endless scrolling will soften my brain into some sort of unstimulated second wave feminist housewife syndrome.) No, thank you.
So, the lesson I've learned: your opportunities are only as big as your dreams and, unfortunately for the lazy, entitled Millenials like myself, dreams require research, work, and proof of your dedication.
This time, when asked if I have questions for the organization, I've done my research. I know what I'll ask, I know how I will relate my personal ethics to the mandate of the organization. And I still may not receive the position, but we all have to start somewhere.
