College Anxiety

Let's just say that when the Dean of Faculty from Rasmussen called on Thursday, I was indisposed. Figures. My insides have a staunch record of going to war with each other at the most inconvenient times: minutes before taking the ACT, during a student conference and, most recently, after Kate's sister's wedding dinner at an Indian restaurant. These interruptions, they happen. Sure. And doesn't it seem like you completely re-prioritize your life when they occur? They always seem to cost me, whether it's my dignity or, in the Rasmussen case, a potential job.

My phone had been on silent because the night before, Kate and I went to the Parkway to watch Trekkies and I never turned the ringer back on. I didn't end up checking my phone until half an hour after my interruption. I had a missed call from an unknown number and initially figured it was the DFL calling again. They had called several times a day leading up to the election, and I hadn't bothered answering because I didn't recognize the numbers and figured a message would be left if the call was important (I found out it was the DFL by performing reverse phone look-ups online). Two things made me realize this call wasn't the DFl, though: the election ended two days earlier and unlike the missed calls from the DFL, this person had left a message.

The Dean of Faculty had said in her message that she'd like to talk to me about possibly teaching an English Comp class for the Winter Quarter and to call her back at her direct line. This was a job listing I had found on Craigslist while I should have been writing cover letters for three jobs I had been putting off applying to for nearly a week. Instead of getting those applications out there, I had decided to do another job search and when I found this listing, I jumped all over it. This position didn't pay as well as the other listings, nor was it as stable of a job. But it was a teaching position--the others weren't--and while I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, I like the flexibility and opportunities that adjuncting affords at this time. Even if I can barely afford to live on the wages these positions pay.

So I called her back immediately, maybe a little too hastily. Because several problems occurred when I returned her call: 1.) I couldn't really catch her name in the message, 2.) I didn't initially know her title at the school, 3.) I didn't really know too much about the school, aside from what friends who work there have told me, 4.) I had no idea what I would say, and 5.) I was so shocked/excited/nervous while listening to the voicemail message that I must have stopped breathing, because while her phone rang I thought my heavy panting was going to blow out the mic in my cellphone.

She didn't answer; it went to her voicemail. Great, I thought. Now we'll have to play phone-tag game. Her voicemail greeting did identify her title; however, I still couldn't understand her when she said her name. I left a terse and awkwardly stressed message, mumbling her name in case I got it wrong. Should I have been surprised that she didn't call back that day? She didn't call back, which I thought was odd. I mean, she left a message for me to return her call, I returned it a half hour later--still early in the afternoon, mind you--and then nothing. Of course, I panicked about the message I had left her, replaying the tiny details that may have led to her reneging on the possibility of a phone conversation. Like I said, I mumbled her name. Maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe she didn't like the fact that I said, "If youneed to get back to me..." which I immediately realized made me sound disinterested, so I overcompensated with an emphatic, "TODAY!" Whatever I said, I had come to the conclusion that this message was her way of testing me, a pre-interview of sorts, and I did not pass.

So I told the story to Jorge while he was over here the next day. And he gave me some advice that seemed way too logical: How about calling her again? I thought about it, but didn't want to sound too desperate or seem like I was being a pest. Plus, that level of directness has no place in the passive-aggressive state of Minnesota. But with the weekend only a few hours away, I figured what the hell. So I did and she answered (again, mumbling her name) and I spoke her name quickly and she asked if I'd be interested in checking out the campus. Whew. That wasn't so bad.

But now I'm not sure what to expect about this campus walk-through. Is it an interview? Do I need to dress up? Should I research the school? I'm going to prepare for this meeting as if it's an interview--better to be safe than sorry, right? I've been feeling good about this; really good, in fact. It's a huge weight off my shoulders to know that my applications materials haven't been total shit, that not getting interviews from all the other places I've applied wasn't necessarily my fault. That, in a way, I've been accepted, even if I'm not offered the job. But I know that come Wednesday, I'll start to freak out. Traffic will be worse than expected and I'll be late. When I get there, my palms will sweat and my voice will shake. No matter how much I try to mentally prepare myself, I'll be a nervous wreck. Something might interrupt our walk-through, causing me to re-prioritize my entire Rasmussen visit.