blog archives February 15, 2011 |
In case you want to read past blog entries, just click on the little tag that says "pull" on the top right hand of the screen. It will open the drop down page containing all my previous blogs. Happy reading!
tough decisions February 13, 2011 |
Unwittingly, I feel like I experienced a major rite of passage today. It's been building up over the last week, but today was the culmination and boy did it hit me square in the guts.
So let's back up to a week or so ago. A friend emailed me with a link to a job he saw advertised and said something like, "hey there. Not sure if you are still looking for something, but I saw this and thought of you..."
I checked out the link and saw that it was for an amazing job. And not just any job. This was the ONE position I had wanted - coveted - for more than four years. I am not going to mention what the job was because as you will see, ultimately it is not really all that important. The one drawback I could see from the outset was that it was a maternity cover position for six months. Still, I thought to myself, who knows where it could lead to if I got it. Women don't come back from maternity leave all the time, or she might take more time off, or maybe it could lead to another position at the same place, or it could open doors to other amazing opportunities... I let my mind wander and allowed myself to play career fantasy for a few minutes.
I actually waited until the 11th hour (literally) to send my application. It was not like most jobs where you can simply send your CV and a cover letter. This job didn't allow you to send either.
Instead, you had to read a number of jargon-filled attachments and application guidelines and then fill in a very detailed and convoluted internal application form. Words like "behavioural competencies" and "organisational skills profile" made my head hurt and after five hours of solid work on my application I rolled into bed at midnight utterly wiped out.
Two days later I got a call from them inviting me for an interview. I prepared myself as best as I could and kept an open mind. I figured I had to go for it otherwise I would forever be asking myself, "what if?"
When I left home the weather was cool, but sunny and pleasant. By the time I arrived in Tel Aviv, the heavens had opened up and I got caught in a torrential downpour. Despite being well dressed for the weather (raincoat, hat, gloves, scarf, umbrella and boots) I still managed to get soaked to the bone in the less than 10 minute walk to the interview.
Luckily my raincoat, hat and umbrella kept my top half relatively dry, but from the knees down I was literally dripping. My feet sloshed with every step and I couldn't believe this was how I was going to be seen for THE MOST IMPORTANT JOB INTERVIEW I HAD EVER HAD IN ISRAEL!
Thankfully, I had about 20 minutes before I was called and that was long enough for me to squeeze the excess rainwater out of my skirt (although I felt bad about leaving a puddle in the reception area where I was waiting) and I fluffed my hair back to some semblance of sleekness. A lipstick refresher and I was almost feeling normal again (except my feet were still squelching).
I was met by the director of the organisation and invited to enter a conference room where two other people were waiting for me. One was the assistant director and the other was the woman whose position was being replaced during her maternity leave.
I sat down and placed my rain-soaked coat and accessories on the floor next to me. I was given a glass of water and told that I would have about 30 minutes for my interview and that each person on the panel would take it in turns to ask me questions and at the end I would have a few minutes to ask any questions I had.
I felt like I was somewhere between doing an oral exam in high school and being on trial for some criminal offence. It was intimidating, unnatural, painfully formal and rigid. Hmmm. Not unlike the application form that I had spent half the night up writing.
Anyone who knows me well knows I like to talk. In this situation (like my 200 word limit for each answer in the application form) I was politely interrupted if I went on too long and told that "sorry, but we need to move on to the next question."
The half hour went like that and I walked out of the interview feeling somewhat deflated and not at all confident that I had made a decent impression. I also felt edgy and stressed and to make myself feel better, I went to a nearby mall and bought my son a cute pair of pyjamas. (It really did make me feel better).
I got on the train home and started to think philosophically about the whole thing. I applied. I got an interview. I followed it up. No regrets. Move on.
And then as I was exiting the train station in Modi'in, I got a call. It was the woman going on maternity leave. She wanted to do a follow up interview with me right there on the phone, IN HEBREW, to check my language skills (a percentage of the job requires reasonably good Hebrew). I was put on the spot, but what the hell, I just jabbered away as well as I could in Hebrew and realised that I managed pretty well for about 20 minutes.
When I finally got home I realised that maybe I hadn't sucked as badly as I initially thought I had. And then I began to think more seriously about what it would mean if I was actually offered the job. I had to delay more in-depth thought until after the kids were in bed and I was able to discuss it with Doron when he got home from work.
It all got a bit more complicated the next morning when I received an email from the director telling me that it was down to me and one other candidate and was I available for a second interview in a week or so.
Honestly. I am not being falsely modest. I truly believed I stank in that interview. I couldn't believe I had been shortlisted to one of two applicants. I now had to think very seriously about what would happen if I was offered, and subsequently accepted, the job.
As a maternity cover position, the most important thing to remember is that there was no guarantee of future employment beyond this point - and my instinct was telling me strongly that this woman fully intended to return to work.
The salary was decent - but not great. But after doing the maths and calculating the net income after tax, pension and of course day care costs, we worked out that I'd be taking home about 1,000 NIS a month i.e. bugger all.
Putting the children in full time day care meant I would get to spend about 2 hours a day with them.
My ability to study for the Lamaze Childbirth Educator course would be severely compromised.
It was beginning to become clear to me that unless I was able to magically morph into Wonder Woman complete with invisible jet, I was unlikely to be able to manage everything. Something - or possibly multiple things - were going to be sacrificed.
But this was my dream job. Opportunities like this didn't come up every day. Or any day for that matter. What kind of a test was this I thought to myself? What the hell was I supposed to do?
The more I thought about it, okay, agonised over it. Lay awake at night thinking about it, I realised something very important.
The fact that it was this amazing job that I had dreamed of getting was irrelevant.
The length of the contract was irrelevant.
The money was irrelevant.
The only thing that mattered at all were my children.
And that was my kick in the guts. That was my dose of reality, my rite of passage.
I told myself that there will be other great opportunities in the future, when the timing is right. But my kids will not always be so small and vulnerable and utterly dependent on me to be there for them day and night. They need me and I need them.
I wrote to the director this afternoon and thanked him sincerely for the opportunity to interview for such a wonderful job. I also told him I was withdrawing my application. As I was finishing the email, my son Liev came up to me with his arms outstretched and wanting me to pick him up for a cuddle. He wanted to play on my computer. I let him press the "send" button. He laughed when he did and then he clapped at his job well done. He kissed me. I cried.
No one ever said a rite of passage was easy.