Today begins my 2.5 (or so) month anniversary at my super-secret assignment. Before November 30, I had gone through roughly 8 months of unemployment (er, being between between engagements), largely due to a “joke” I made to someone during an assignment I’d gotten in April (only a week and a half after the ASSIGNMENT FROM HELL!!!!111!)
She asked what me what my plans were, where I’d applied, what I want to do with the rest of my life (she also made a crack about “Don’t you want a real job, instead of temping? No, of course not! I just LOOOOOOVE the extra special feeling of uncertainty that temping can bring, so thanks for asking!) I stated that I’d taken my civil service exams three years in a row (90, 94, and 95 so far!), but I was waiting to hear back about any possible interviews (make note of that word…interviews. You don’t get job offers, you get job interview offers). Anyhoo, I make the “joke,” and since we were the only two people in the whole room, I feel safe in assuming that she was the one that blabbed to the manager, and of course, I was called in and questioned about it. I stated that no, I had no offers from anyone, no interviews, no prospects, no nothing. She didn’t believe me, and of course, she had a conference to go to in the Catskills, Ozarks, Brokeback Mountains, whatever, so I didn’t get a chance to speak my peace.
Of course, I received a call from the recruiter, asking me what I’d said. Again, I simply told her I’d made a joke about the slowness of the Civil Service and how you’re placed on a waiting list just for the possibility even getting an interview. The recruiter stated that it’d be best to keep my cards close to my vest (hell, I didn’t have any cards, nor did I have a vest) but I feel that I must thank you, yes, you, Ms. Meghan Vault, from the bottom of my apparently job-filled heart for extending my unemployment (er, between engagements) FOR EIGHT OF THE WORST MONTHS THAT I HAVE EVER, AND I MEAN EVER, EXPERIENCED! Worse than pneumonia. They were worse than the flu. They were worse than double pneumonia. They were worse than the time I was on Toprol XL and it gave me seizures. It was worse than the time I was on Benicar and was feverish, achy, and nauseous for the last two semesters of that job in my other life. In short, Ms. Vault, loose lips sink ships. Or in my case, sink employment. I know that you probably won’t read this unless you Google your name, but I cannot let this go any longer—getting it out on the page makes me feel a little better. (It’s similar to when a huge SUV is suddenly bearing down upon you as the driver’s looking down at a phone and stuffing his mouth with fries. Honking the horn does little good, but it makes you feel better.)
I’m not Nixon, so you’re not on my “Enemies List.” Just make sure that when a co-worker tells you something, don’t go blabbing it to all and sundry before you get your facts straight, okay?