Waiting – for a new job

If I were a wise soul, I would stay put. I would be thrilled at my rather generous salary and my absurdly small work load and spend my spare time researching car seat safety ratings or picking out cute baby announcement stationary. But I am not a wise soul.

I am a restless, pseudo go-getter corporate kid who isn’t so organized or motivated as to get an MBA, but still gets her jollies from strategy meetings with enormous wipe boards and overly-complicated spreadsheets involving multiple pivot tables and enough data to crash a standard issue Dell laptop. As the Chief of Staff character in season one of The West Wing said to Josh Lynam (I’m paraphrasing here), “You don’t want to be The Guy – you want to be the guy The Guy turns to.” That pretty much sums up my career aspirations – work for some brilliant business mind and help him solve problems.

And I think I may have the opportunity to get that very job. In fact, I’ve already been through two rounds of interviews for it, and I think they went pretty well. But now I have to wait.

You might think that, as a pregnant lady, I’d be pretty much resigned to waiting. People ask me all the time if we know the baby’s sex and I reply “I think we should know in June.” My friends in town constantly ask me when I’m going to start showing “for real” instead of my current looks-like-everyone’s-belly-after-turkey-dinner bump, and I reply “hopefully soon.” Heck, I spent two months waiting to tell my own mother I was pregnant, but baby waiting is different. First, it has a pretty clear end date. And second, for every moment I feel excited to meet the small one, I have another moment of total dread about the prospect of actually giving birth to the small one (and in this case I hope “small” is in reference to head and shoulder size specifically). So for all intensive purposes, I’m no better at waiting now than I was back in January (and worse if it involves needing to use a rest room).

But back to the job. In addition to being a non-committal ladder climber, I am also a planner. Not a realistic planner (I’m the girl who, upon successfully completing three weeks as a JV coxswain in college, began to map out my Olympian future – I quit by the end of the semester), but a planner none the less. And not knowing what job you have makes it really hard to plan. Especially if said planning involves picking out potential daycare locations or creating family budgets or even something as mundane as figuring out if/when the hubby and I can take a long weekend away a la the new babymoon trend while we are still diaper-bag free.

And while I don’t always (read: often) stick to my plans, I feel better having one. And I take comfort in the process of making one, as simply knowing I was able to map it all out means the task is possible to actual do accomplish (hopefully). And feeling comfortable is kinda a big deal when you are in your mid to late twenties and expecting your first kid.

So now I check my cell phone for missed calls every time I return to my desk.

I am going to be a basket case when it comes to waiting to go into labor.

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