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Closure, Expectations, and Crying

As anyone who actually speaks to me (I’m pretty sure all my readers) knows, I went on a big interview a few weeks ago.  By big interview, I mean an interview that did not occur in the mall, for a job that would not pay me hourly and which would actually require my college degree.  Guys, it wasn’t even in New Jersey, it was in New York.  THESE ARE THE BIG LEAGUES.

In case you’re wondering if this is a lead-up to some jubilant announcement, know that I would never bury that kind of lead.  Nor can I report that I got rejected.  I had the interview, and then… that was just it.  No response, no nothing.

To digress a moment, I’ve noticed that the more mundane life becomes, the lower my expectations fall.  It goes something like this: If you’re not going to hang up your clothes and bring them out of the fitting room, you could at least hang them up; If you’re not going to hang them up, you could at least not leave them inside-out; If you won’t do that, you could at least pick them up off the floor.  And suddenly I’m just happy not to have to pick other people’s shit up off the ground.  So, in the context of this interview, my expectations have gradually fallen in the two weeks following it from I hope I get this job, to I hope I at least get the dignity of a response. 

I mean, is this so much to ask for?  I had braced for the probable fact that I wouldn’t get it already, but in not responding at all, this employer has robbed me even of my hard-earned right to spend a day in bed crying over my rejection.  Instead, he let me hang on day after day until even that much passion had left me.  When I got my early-admission rejection letter from NYU, I had a truly righteous bout of sorrow, but was able to exorcise those feeling as such and move on. 

I guess all I’m really asking for is some closure…

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