The Thick of It (Mexican version)

It's one thing to not get hired for the job you were hoping to get. It's quite another to be hired, sign your contract, go to work for three days... and then find out they can't hire you after all, through no fault of your own. This is the story of the past week of my life... yet another chapter in the tragic lives of the unemployed in this ludicrous economy.

Yes, I was offered a job in the now hated (by me) government agency charged with preventing and eradicating violence against women in Mexico (epic and almost laughably ambitious task, but a task I wanted to devote myself to nonetheless). I wanted to work there badly, so badly that I accepted below-average pay and no benefits to get in. I signed all the paperwork on the spot and they even gave me assignments before I officially started.

Last Thursday was my first day. As in every "first day" of my life, I got up early, allotted extra time to look sharp, and was there early... briefcase in hand and 1000-watt smile. I was busy as a bee for three days, getting used to the idea of working for the government with all its limitations... including no office, no computer, no desk even. I convinced myself that working out of a waiting room the size of my bathroom exchanging body odor with five other people with my laptop actually on my lap, burning my legs, was worth it because I was finally doing something I not only loved, but actually though was important and meaningful. I had never really had that before, or at least I was never able to get paid for it before. I felt that I was "on track"... on my way to earning and saving money to pay rent, buy a car, make a life, have a family. After two years of graduate school, I felt that I was successfully reintegrated into the "real world" … and it wasn't half bad.

This morning I walked into work for my third day, excited as ever but with a strange feeling that this might not be all it's cracked up to be. Is it because I am receiving no clear direction? Is it because the "Doctor" (an obnoxious woman with a Ph.D. in anthropology and a pseudo "I-experience-pangs-of-white-guilt" afro) was a bitch when I asked her for a document? Is it because they just informed me I will be working late on a pointless and bureaucratic task? I attributed the dark and ominous feeling to the "third-day blues", a.k.a. the day you realize that your dream job has the same problems as any other job: lazy coworkers, bad bosses, pointless tasks mixed in with the interesting ones. But no... this was something more. I felt so strange that I started plotting how I could escape early for lunch to go home for a bit and see my family and maybe feel more like myself. It soon became clear why I had a dark and ominous feeling. I guess I have learned to trust my gut.

This particular government agency is led by a woman of apparently great accomplishments but, IMHO, absolutely no leadership skills. During my interview with her, she didn't look me in the eye once... for the entire five minutes it lasted. She basically asked me if I was a lawyer (to which I firmly responded "yes", in spite of my before-mentioned ambiguity about the term) and she then curtly offered me the spot in all its gritty glory ("it's not much", "the pay isn't as good as you might expect from the government", "you would not be part of the government structure so you would not receive any benefits", "the work hours are quite unfriendly"). Well, it appears that those five minutes were all that this woman could spare for me, because she could not even offer me another five to fire/unhire me to my face.

Today around noon I got called in by this woman's personal assistant (a man, working as an assistant for a woman, for once), who quickly and unfetteredly announced that my hiring procedure could not be completed because they did not get approval from the head clerk. He said that both of my bosses were "delighted with my performance of the past few days", and they did not want to tell me earlier because they wanted to "plea my case" because there was still a slight possibility of getting approval. He said that the head of the agency had tried to negotiate it earlier but had gotten nowhere. Yeah. Right. Now what?

I was civil and thanked him for trying. I even told him to consider me if any opportunities opened up in the future. In truth, I wanted to scream and tell him to "take me to his leader". Why could the big boss lady not have told me herself? Why could they not have made sure they had approval to hire me before they made me believe I was hired and made me come to work for three days? Why could they not consider this before I rejected two perfectly good offers from two perfectly lovely NGOs? WHY?!!!

I left the little man's office (his personality is little but he's also quite tiny physically) in a rush and went downstairs where nobody could hear or see me. I called my usual support system (husband, father, mother... I would have called my sister but she's living in New York this year, damn it) and I cried my eyes out. I cried out of anger and frustration and a strange mix of entitlement and humiliation, but most of all, I cried out of sheer disappointment.

Disappointment is defined as "the feeling of dissatisfaction that follows the failure of expectations to manifest". That is exactly right: I was so happy to have found the job I wanted... I told all my friends and grinned as I took in their congratulations. We made a commitment to rent a little town house on the expectation that I would soon have an income. I even gloated to my ex that I had found a government job before he had (in the wise words of Samantha: “it’s always a contest with an ex!”). Furthermore, I actually did the work requested with commitment and enthusiasm. I showed up early and got involved and gave it my all. I never expected it would not last. I now have to suffer the embarassment of telling my 83-year-old meddlesome grandmother that she was right all along: my education was pointless because I can't find a job after all. I now have to grovel to the perfectly lovely NGOs whose offers I rejected to see if they will take me back. We'll perhaps need to reconsider the house.

The dictionary also says that "disappointment" is "similar to regret" but that "it differs in that the individual feeling regret focuses primarily on the personal choices that contributed to a poor outcome". So, regret is basically different from disappointment in that you know that you contributed to the result... you feel that it is somehow your fault. In this sense, perhaps regret is worse... at least it is for me. This time, I am comforted by the idea that I did nothing wrong. I have no regrets. I did not deserve this and there is nothing I could have done better or differently to keep it from happening. Sometimes, shit really just happens, for whatever reason.

In the manner of all other members of the optimistic/romantic lineage, I tell myself that everything happens for a reason. Perhaps I'm just not cut out for the limitations of bureaucracy and the inevitable frustrations of working for the government of a “new” democracy figuring out its kinks. Perhaps I will get a better offer to work in a place that actually improves the lives of women in real and concrete ways, instead of sitting in crowded conference rooms talking about it and "drafting policy" that never trickles down. Perhaps the dark and ominous feeling was my soul's way of telling me to get out of there, fast.

I must confess that, along with the tsunami of disappointment, I felt tiny waves of relief when I heard the news. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with the stress of working in a new environment and having to adjust and prove myself. Perhaps I was just happy that I didn't have to do the awful budget assignment and I could just go home for lunch and kiss my husband and hug my parents. But maybe, just maybe, something bigger was telling me that this one just wasn't for me. Why else would something as strange as being "unhired" out of the blue and for no apparent reason happen in the middle of my third day at work? I choose to believe that there is something better in store for me and that this apparently "random" occurrence in my life has some sort of greater purpose. I hope to find a new job soon and get back on the elusive "track", but in the meantime, I have a few more days to sleep in, get drunk, enjoy my family and take in the pleasures of my new (and old) hometown.