How to contact the fraud police

The subject of Imposter Syndrome has come up in my blog before. Although it has been in remission for a few months, for the last 2 months Imposter Syndrome and the Fraud Police have been trying very hard to take over my professional life.

As I’ve mentioned, my position at work is being eliminated. That means looking for work internally.

My first interview (with the team that’s replacing mine) went really badly. REALLY badly.  I knew before it was over that I would not get an offer, and was not a bit surprised when I did not. The second interview went very well, and it was with a team that has asked me to join them previously. Although the Imposter Syndrome told me I wouldn’t get that job either, I thought Imposter Syndrome might be wrong. Unfortunately, I was not chosen for that job either.

Apparently if you don’t get a job you’ve been waiting to apply for since January the fraud police  arrive at your home in full riot gear. That’s fine. Bring it.  If you then also don’t get the second job you’ve applied for, the one that you’ve actually been actively recruited for TWICE, well. The fraud police will break out the  emotional equivalent of tear gas and night sticks. They’ll  have mental tasers.  The fraud police is always well armed, but usually I’ve got a pretty good punch myself. I’m not afraid to bite in a street fight. Right now, though, I am just not up for it. I am not. I’m down, and I can hear them counting to 10. And I don’t even want to get back up, but I know I’m going to have to. I’ll just wait for them to get to 9 before I climb back up the ropes.

I’m pretty good at bouncing back. It is all I have been doing since last Fall.  Bouncing back from an abusive coworker. Bouncing back from a relationship ending. Bouncing back from a nearly year long ordeal of professional limbo. My bounciness is just not there any more, and what’s worse neither is the desire to fight back.

To attack a job search, you need confidence. You need to feel like you own the fucking planet and are the best person anyone could ever hire.  I feel like poison. Like I’ve been fooling the whole world into thinking I’m smart and talented only for everyone to discover that I’m a total fake. It’s not the right mental or emotional stance for a job hunt. Nor do I have the wardrobe for it, having lost 63 pounds. None of my clothes fit any more.  Irony: when you have the body for new clothes, but no money to buy them because you are about to be unemployed.

So what am I going to do?

Apparently, whine about it in my blog. Shut up. It’s my blog and I can whine if I want to.

Before I whined in my blog, though,  I emailed someone at work about an introduction/interview with another team. The hiring manager for the job I *didn’t* get apparently told this other manager that he’d be crazy not to hire me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. If the other manager would be crazy not to hire me, doesn’t that mean that the manager who could have hired me and didn’t is even crazier??

Maybe I’ll understand it tomorrow.

As Scarlett says, it’s another day.

Maybe I’ll feel bouncier about things then.

In the meantime, 2018 can go and suck a big bag of limp dicks. Except the part of 2018 that gave me Thirteen.

Actually, 2018 only sucks donkey dicks at work. The rest of my life is fantastic. Best boyfriend ever. Best family and friends ever. I look fabulous. My personal vanity levels are way up…


Huh. I seem to be cheering myself up…damn, I’m good.