This morning, I received a phone call from one of the places where I interviewed last week. The manager wanted me to spell out my availabilities in the afternoons again. I think he's trying to work out a schedule that would allow me to work and teach. That sounds very promising. I have not heard from the other place I interviewed, which perturbs me. I really don't want to make a decision until all the cards are on the table, so to speak.
I am happy that I'm at least getting interest in my applications. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm a good employee. My displacement has nothing to do with my job performance. It's just a simple matter of policy changes and departmental adjustments. I shouldn't be taking it personally. It's business. But, after you give close to 20 years of your life to a place, it feels very personal.
My question for E. B. White is straightforward this evening:
Am I going to enjoy whatever job I end up getting?
And the answer from the gospel according to Charlotte is:
...And then [Lurvy] took another look and he saw something that made him set his pail down. There, in the center of the web, neatly woven in block letters, was a message. It said:
Well, that's a pretty clear answer. It's Charlotte's first message, and Lurvy is dumbfounded. That means some kind of miracle is headed my way. I don't need anything on the scale of a tenured university position falling out of the sky into my lap (although, that would be nice). No, I'll take something small, like a spider web glistening with dew in early morning sunlight.
Saint Marty isn't picky.