The End of an Era

My unemployment is drawing to a rapid and unexpected close. At least temporarily.

My former editor at the OPP called me and frantically asked if I could fill in at a small, one-day-a-week paper in the next town. For some shady reasons he wouldn't disclose, the current reporter won't be working for at least two months, perhaps longer, and I've been asked to replace her until then.

So all of the jobs I applied for, all the cover letters I wrote detailing my desperation of getting at least an interview, all the networking, the unsolicited resumes I sent out, all the near-begging over the last five months...it was all worthless. When JJ called, he said he was looking at my resume (which was current), though he had no idea where it came from. And neither do I. Of all the places I applied, the newspaper was not one of them. It really is strange.

So while I'm extremely excited about getting a regular paycheck again, I'm honestly a little nervous. Yes, I've worked for a newspaper before. But I wrote sports. It was part time--a few articles per week--and it was easy. Covering court cases, city council meetings, school board sessions...that worries me. I don't know anything about that stuff--or even what parts are important enough to report. Ever since I agreed to this job, I've had small panicky moments where I want to quit (even though I haven't started).

Since the town is twenty minutes away, and since THEY called ME in a panic, I convinced them to let me do most of my writing at home. I should only have to travel a few days a week, and they agreed to let me keep my Friday Farm Bureau job. It was nice to be on the end of the interview where I got to make some demands. I actually felt valued and wanted--unlike a few weeks ago when I was pleading and trying to convince the local bagel shop that I can competently slice tomatoes and make sandwiches. And they still didn't want me.

Honestly, unemployment has depressed me. I thought I was going to be writing a ton, working out every day, working on personal betterment. Instead I can hardly find the energy--or willpower--to get out of bed in the morning. It takes hours of convincing, planning, and scheduling to get myself to get moving, to shower, and to actually leave the house.

That's why I took the job. Even though it scares me, and I don't think I'll enjoy it all that much. Even though every step of the way, this job has promised to be everything I want: Writing, working from home, decent pay (OK, my standards aren't that high anymore). Though I already have plans to inform JJ that if he finds out he needs a permanent replacement reporter he should look for someone else. I'm not planning on making this long term.

But for now, it should at least improve the number of days I change out of my pajamas.