I’ve been trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, that I’m unbothered, and I didn’t need to talk about it. I have this misguided belief, sometimes, that the RIGHT thing should by definition be the EASY thing; discontent becomes a sign of weakness, in my system, if the choice was correct.
But then, you know, there’s the whole thing where I don’t even like porridge but you are damn well going to have to listen to me complain about it if the temperature is off. It’s part of my charm.
So. Um. It’s time to tell you the thing about the thing, I think.
There’s something kind of exciting happening in the blogosphere right now, and you’ve probably heard about it. A group of women are going to be blogging for a big corporate site for real money. It sounds like a lot of people applied and the “select group” of those offered jobs is likely to be amazing.
I applied, along with the rest of the free world (ha!) and after hearing nothing for what seemed an interminable period of time, I decided that I was not wanted, time to move on to plan B. So after stalling a second place for a while, I actually sort of pre-accepted a different gig (that would’ve been a conflict) and the very next day, I found out I was being offered a spot with the first place, the one I really wanted to work for.
So I did a little victory dance and shared the good news with my parents and let the second place know that OOPS! actually, I had this other gig, but thank you, and then I went online and bought some shoes, because that’s what I do. It was a very good day!
And then about a week later I got the paperwork for this job that I’d been dying to get, and there were some things that were problematic for me. (And by “problematic for me,” I mean “set off alarm bells and waving robot arms and declarations of DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!”) First of all, there was a week between the job offer and the paperwork, but the paperwork came with an email about how we are all under a tremendous time crunch and this all needs to be signed as soon as possible. Plus, the email continued, nothing in the contract was negotiable. Due to the time constraints, naturally.
Funny, but I was not surprised, after that intro, to discover that I had some problems with the contract.
Long story short: I ended up thanking the client for the opportunity, but not taking the job.
Long story long: I don’t have any doubt that I made the right choice for me. I did talk with a number of other people who did go on to sign up with this opportunity, because I felt that perhaps my concerns would be… more universal, I guess… than they apparently were. As far as I know, I’m the only person who turned down the contract. And I am NOT saying that anyone who signed didn’t make exactly the right decision for themselves, so please let’s not get into that.
I had a conflict of interest, given the structure of the contract, and so I couldn’t sign it. That’s all.
Except that (of course), that’s not all.
Except that I feel like I’ve somehow alienated a number of the people with whom I discussed this, because the tacit assumption seems to be that if I didn’t sign it, neither should you. Some of my concerns, I admit, go beyond my particular situation. And I did want to bring them up to other people. But if you hear all of that and still feel comfortable proceeding? Good for you. Seriously. I hope it works out for everyone who’s aboard and the whole thing is wildly successful. I hope I completely overreacted and every writer involved becomes rich and famous and is never, ever screwed over by the parent corporation.
Except that I really wanted this job, and I would’ve been great at this job, and I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed with the way it was handled by the people who made the offer and I’m disappointed with myself for thinking that it was going to work out.
Except that I realized that I also lost out on the other job, thanks to what was happening with this (both timing and some things I figured out during this process).
Except that sometimes I wish I was the sort of person who could just take today for what it is without worrying about how it affects tomorrow (or next week, or next year). I wish I could’ve just said, “Oh! Shiny, pretty money!” My life would be easier in the short-term and then I wouldn’t give a crap about the long-term. I think I’d be happier.
I know I’d be happier. But it’s not how I’m wired.
I have other work. And more work will come. I did the right thing for this point in my life.
So why am I feeling about as far from “peaceful” as it gets?