the vacation is over

I had a second interview with a company last Friday, and with my unemployment checks quickly reaching that point in time where they will stop magically appearing in my mailbox, I was forced to take extreme measures.

I sent a Thank You letter to my interviewer.

I know that you’re always supposed to send these little ‘thank you’ letters and that recruiters, career specialists, and human resources people alike all strenuously state the importance of thanking your interviewer by mail. But, generally speaking, I’ve never been real sure what, exactly, I’m thanking them for. By granting me an interview, they take away from my ‘sleeping in time’, my ‘daytime television watching’ time, and my ‘loafing around the house while leisurely enjoying my third cup of coffee’ time.

If anything, they should be sending me a thank you letter telling me just how thankful they are that I took time out of my busy schedule to come in and let them ask me questions. Maury Povich and Dr. Phil wait for nobody, and by going in for an interview there’s a good chance that I’ll miss the latest installment of ‘Cheaters Caught on Tape!’, and then I’ll be completely lost during the next ‘Updates’ episode.

However, desperate times call for desperate measures…so Thursday morning I quickly slapped together a thank you note (with the help of a monster.com specially made ‘thank you letter template’ which probably means that yet another thank you letter for helping me create a thank you letter is in order) and I dropped it off in the mail a good half an hour before the ten o’clock pick-up time in the hopes that the letter would make it into my interviewer’s hands by Friday afternoon.

But not even two hours after my manic mail drop, I got a call from the lady who interviewed me…the same lady I had just sent my thanks to...and she offered me the job. The job that promised to provide money that the government was so cruelly going to stop giving me at the end of July. The job that promised continued food, shelter, and cable television…all of which are essential to my survival, not so much the food and shelter, but no cable television?!? I would surely die.

But right after accepting the job, depression set in. Because, at the precise moment I said yes, my five month vacation ended. Five glorious months of nothing to do. Five beautiful months of no responsibility, no bosses, and no painstakingly tedious work. Five extraordinary months in which I was able to catch up with old friends…Regis and Kelly, Montel, and Bob Barker. By taking this job, I stirred up those same feelings that I had back in grade school when the final few days of August rolled around and all I could think of was, ‘oh crap, it’s over’. Because two days after summer officially began, mine was finished.

Worse still, I had sent a thank you letter. Had she called just two hours sooner, I could have saved myself 37 cents. And as my first point of business come Monday morning, I plan on filing a requisition form to be compensated for that 37 cents…the price of a stamp, and the price of my summer.