This is a moment of raw honesty for me because it means that while I may excel at some things in life, there’s one thing at which I didn’t quite succeed. So here goes: midlife job search

I’m job hunting. midlife job search

I mean, seriously hunting . . . to the tune of sending out 103 resumes in the past two months. 

On Tuesday, I had an interview. It was an interview in the form of a mock training session, a training conducted by me. It was the third in a series of interview-esque weeding out tactics from a company with whom I wish to become affiliated. Henceforth, I shall refer to said company as “My New Employer”. (See what I did there? Thinking positive…)

It’s been a difficult road so far, and if it turns out that I don’t get this job for which I’ve interviewed, it will make the road that much more difficult, that much rockier, that much harder to trudge, that much suckier.

Why a Job? Why Now? midlife job search

I’m in the family way. No, I’m not pregnant (although, at almost 55 years old, that would be a magnificent feat of achievement to which I would likely hire a billboard along I-85 and proclaim my fertility to the commuting masses). Right now, the in-home Albarda brood consists of our dog, Chaka (see photo of Her Majesty below). Yes, she’s my baby and as close as I’ve come to bearing a child. However, another living, breathing soul will be joining us by year’s end – my stepson, Robert. At that time, our little family unit will be complete – a Mom, a Dad, a Boy and his Pooch.

So because I’m in this particular family way, the independent, strong-willed, enthusiastic, creative go-getter in me feels compelled to rejoin the work force and earn a more reliable income. I so wanna be Enjoli – bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan (and if you get that reference, I’m gifting you with a whopping 3,928 old school points!).

As much as I enjoy my coaching business, I’m not really enjoying my coaching business. Confused yet? Alrighty then, I’ll break it down for you: What I’m trying to say is my coaching business isn’t providing me enough of that which I enjoy (a/k/a clients and a steady income). Yeah, it sucks. There’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears tied up in that business and I desperately wanted it to work out. However, I had to admit my truth. Somewhere along the line, God, the Universe and The Great and Powerful Oz have other plans for me.

So now I wait. midlife job search

I wait for the phone to ring. When it does, I jump out of my skin and draw in my breath like a high suction vacuum cleaner. So far, in the two days since the mock training, I’ve received calls from my sister, our hardwood floor installer, my friend Joanne, my Dad, two wrong numbers and roughly 281 robocalls. (I exaggerate about the robocalls but being on the Do Not Call list and still getting telemarketer calls can lead an honest woman down the path of embellishment). All of those calls, and not one has been from My New Employer.

Outlook, and the associated email address designated specifically for job search purposes, sits on the taskbar of my computer, which I keep on auto-hide. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Errmm, not so much. Hiding the toolbar and, by extension, Outlook, hasn’t helped one bit. Every few minutes, I move the cursor down below that magic line which makes the taskbar appear out of thin air. The Outlook envelope is empty. Not a peep from My New Employer. With each peek, I become more anxious, more nervous, more agitated and, oddly, more hungry.

For some inexplicable reason, I keep Googling My New Employer. I don’t really know what I’m expecting to find. I’ve already read every review of them on Glassdoor, I’ve checked them out on the BBB, and I’ve viewed every employee’s profile on LinkedIn. Admittedly, it’s become somewhat of an obsession with me. Still, somehow my stalkerish behavior feels oddly comforting to me.

Is this the norm for a post-50 woman who’s been out of the mainstream workforce for the past 9 years? It’s bad enough I have to contend with the weight gain, hot flashes and pendulum mood swings of menopause (I nearly snapped a frail, old man in half with my bare hands in the grocery store the other day because I misunderstood something he said to me). Now I’m holding myself hostage, waiting for a call or email that may never come.

Frustrating?  You betcha. midlife job search

I know that there is a job out there for me. And I’ve come to grips with the very real possibility that that job won’t be this job. Still, I like to daydream about My New Employer. And perhaps they’re daydreaming about me, too, waiting for the moment they can call and say, “Valerie, you got the job!” Perhaps.

So, I say to you, don’t give up hope and when . . . oh wait, is that the phone?!?