Ya know, folks, the world works in mysterious ways. Here's a little example.
A few weeks ago, while visiting the Texas Museum Jobs website as I do regularly in my quest for a job, I came across a posting for a research librarian at the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum in Waco. The job sounded right up my alley--lots of research work for individuals and groups looking for information on the legendary lawmen (and women!) of the Lone Star State. The museum requested applicants have a Master's Degree but would substitute years of experience towards the requirement which meant I could apply and be in the running. And it turns out I was because I received a phone call from the director of the research center inviting me to come up for an interview. I was delighted! This would be my first interview in five months of job hunting. There was only one small fly in the ointment: Waco is 100 miles from Austin, 200 miles round trip.
But I was undeterred. The job sounded very interesting. It would be all highway driving. Yes, I'd pay a king's ransom in gas but this was the first positive response in five months so it was worth the effort to go for it. How cool it would be to be working for the Texas Rangers! The drive up for the interview would be good exposure to what the commute would be like and I would see how the Taurus handled on a long, fast haul.
I went to bed early Monday night, setting my alarm for 5:00 am.
I woke up at 3:00 and couldn't get back to sleep. I stretched out in the dark listening to the noises of the city, thinking about the people I would meet, both in person and in history, if I got the job.
Finally, 5:00 am arrived. I got out of bed, fumbled to put in my contacts, ate a protein bar and started getting ready for my 6:30 departure. Remembering that I needed to have my Social Security card with me, I went to the place I kept it...and it wasn't there! Any sense of calm immediately left me. Had I forgotten it at the bank where I had last used it? I went through my files and piles and twenty minutes later found it right where I had put it, under the wooden heart bowl I keep my bracelets in. Phew. I shook my head, laughing. What a beginning. I finished getting ready and was out the door by 6:40 am.
In theory, the drive should have taken about an hour and forty five minutes. I had given myself two hours and twenty minutes so be safe. It would be the early stages of the morning commute for Austin and I was heading north, which was in my favor. Once I cleared Georgetown, the traffic would thin out some and the pace would become faster and less stressful. I had gone as far as Temple, which is 36 miles south of Waco, with Jeff the week before and paid attention to traffic patterns as we zoomed north. I had the trip visualized and was feeling centered and alert as I merged onto the interstate.
Traffic was flowing at a good clip. I-35 is the major north-south route for Texas so it is nearly always busy. During rush hour, things often come to a stand still. Jeff is fond of quipping, "They say there iare no parking spots in Austin but really there's plenty....on the Interstate." As we would say in Maine, "Oh the traffic is wicked!"
The speed limit on many Texas highways is 70 mph which means most people cruise at 80. I was in the flow and looking at the clock and what good time I was making, said aloud, "I'm going to be plenty early. I'll even have time to pee before the interview."
Oh you stupid girl. When will you learn not to say things out loud.
A few more miles and then traffic stopped. Three lanes of traffic, stopped and then started creeping. Then three lanes became two lanes and we crept some more. Then two lanes became one lane, and we crept some more. Then one lane took us off the highway onto the access road, which is a phenomenon in Texas that will drive me to drink. You can see the sign for IKEA or Rudy's BBQ or the Valero station, but if you didn't exit at the last exit 4 miles back when you had no clue IKEA was looming ahead, you are never going to see those places in person, not unless you have a vehicle with decent ground clearance and you four-wheel it down over the grassy divider to the access road, which is legal and frequently done here. I can picture myself trying something like that in Maine and ending up with half the state police chasing after me and Kim Block commenting on the live video feed from the News13 chopper following the story!
Big I digress...or detour, as it were. We crept along for miles on the access road, able to see the empty highway and never catching sight of whatever construction convoy, as the sign had cryptically said, had closed down miles of I-35.
Twenty miles an hour is fast if you are running. It's slow if you watching time tick away as you begin to realize you are going to be stunningly late for a job interview and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Thinking ahead, I had brought both phones and the number I had requested from the woman who had called for the interview. I called the number that was already in the black phone first. It rang and rang and rang and then a non-specific recording came on saying leave your name and number with no mention of the museum. That struck me as odd but I started leaving a message none the less when a woman picked up.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Yes, " I said. "I'm trying to get through to Cristina Stopka."
"There's no Cristina here, " the woman replied. "What number did you dial?"
"I thought I was dialing the Texas Ranger Museum, " I replied.
"Well this is Canton, Ohio, and it's raining here."
I started laughing at the totally random weather report. I said I was in Austin, Texas, and it was nearly 90 at 8:30 in the morning and rain was sounding pretty good right about now. The woman was very pleasant and we chatted for a minute after I apologized for the wrong number.
I tried the next number I had written down and got through to voicemail for Ms. Stopka. I explained my predicament and asked her to ring me and please advise. She called back ten minutes later, sympathetic, and letting me know what my time window was as they had a full day of interviews scheduled. As we were finishing the call, I had made it back onto I-35 finally and traffic was flying. If nothing else happened, I could still make it in time.
If.
Oh, it's such a little word but what a big punch it packs.
I had somehow managed to find myself nestled in between a long stretch of tractor trailers. The highway was only two lanes and the trucks were using every inch. There was no way to pass them and it was what I imagine flying in formation is like. No one can see anything except the guy in the lead. You keep your eyes on the brake lights in front of you. And I was, when they all came on at once at 75 miles per hour. I hit my brakes as the trucks around me did what they could to not pile up on each other. There was smoke and noise and the smell of burned rubber coming in through the air conditioner. That there wasn't a crash, at least in front me, was a miracle. Who knows what transpired behind us. We all kept moving but that ended shortly after.
The pace once again was reduced to a crawl until eventually we passed the scene of an accident that had resulted in large, iron support beams being tossed about the tread-rutted grassy roadside like pick up sticks. There were sheriff's deputies all about in their brown uniforms and cowboy hats. I can only guess that some driver ahead of the tractor trailers had rubber-necked or hit the brakes at the sight of the accident scene and that's what had sent our pack into a riot of red lights and squeals.
By this time, my future was sealed. There was no way I could make my interview and there had not been an option offered to put me at the end of the day, which I totally understood.
Just to complete my journey, I went on to Waco and found the museum. It is very conveniently located just off the highway. The grounds are beautiful and include a park along the Brazos River. Knowing that Jeff and I had things to do upon my return, I didn't bother to visit the museum as a tourist. I stopped for gas and a quick pee and headed south. And do you know, the ride home took me one hour and 45 minutes.
After a journey of 200 miles, subdued road rage, nearly getting squashed amongst giant trucks and peeing at a truck stop (I'm always a little nervous when the restrooms are "upstairs" at those places, near the showers and the truckers' lounge, and the men watch you from behind as you go up the stairs), I treated myself to a quick stop at IKEA, remembering to take the Cedar Park exit so I could get to the access road! I bought this rug in the photo for $1.99 plus tax.
So what's a girl to do? Obviously not work for the Texas Rangers! What's funny is, when I got home and checked my email, there was a note from the City of Austin saying I had not been chosen for a library job I had applied for nearly two months ago! And what's even funnier about that is this:
About a month ago, I received a letter in the mail from the Texas Historical Commission, informing me in the most lovely way possible, that I had not been selected for a position and thanking me having considered working with them. Truly, as rejection letters go, it was poetry.
(I subsequently received another from them, from a different department for a different position and it was equally warm and thoughtful. I just applied for yet another position with them and mentioned their kind responses in my cover letter, so whether I get the job or not, I'll have another piece of posh stationery with nice words on to remind me that I'm at least worth a watermark and postage!)
Anyway, right after I pulled that "you're lovely but we don't want you" letter out of my mailbox, I went to the library to drop off books. The Yarborough branch locks the outside bookdrops during the day forcing you to come inside to return items if they are open.
As I walked in, I saw a smartly dressed young woman waiting in the small lobby with a clipboard and an air of anticipation. For some reason, I knew immediately she was there for a job interview. I would have bet my life on it. And it would have been an interview for the position I had applied for at that branch. Obviously, my application had not warranted an interview.
I waited in line to put my books in the bin. As I did, the library director came floating down the stairs from the offices above.
"Patricia, " she said. "How nice to meet you. We'll be holding the interviews upstairs."
The women shook hands and the director motioned the young woman to the elevator. Evidently librarians in Austin walk down stairs but not up them. I dropped my books in the slot, trying not to laugh at the cosmic joke I was part of that day. Sharon, we are going to make it really obvious that some days you are not going to get what you want....which begs the question: did i really want it to begin with?
Hmmmmm.
Big loves from the still unemployed in Austin!
.jpg)