Finally! After three months of application submissions and informational meetings, I landed a real honest-to-goodness interview for a real honest-to-goodness paying job.

It’s not a stretch to say I was ecstatic when I saw the request in my inbox. (Coincidentally the email arrived the morning after the inauguration. Maybe Barack really is going to save us!? If not “us” maybe just me?)

The thrill, however, dissipated quickly. I had quite a bit of preparation ahead. You see, as the weeks of searching morphed into months, I’ve gradually been broadening my search criteria. As a result, the job I would be interviewing for wasn’t in the tech sector (where I had most recently worked) but instead it more directly related with my public sector and evaluation roots.

And to be honest, it had been almost 18 months since I stuck my head in an evaluation report or digested a government agency’s strategic plan.

So I spent the next few days doing just that. I reviewed the evaluation articles in the 4-inch binder I compiled while working as a public sector consultant. I spent long hours combing the website of the agency where I would be interviewing – all in an attempt to catch up on a year’s worth of legislation and policy implementation in 5 days. Then interview day arrived.

I donned my interview suit and obsessed over the part in my hair. (Don’t ask.) Looking the part is half the battle, right?

Cue agony.

I’ve always prided myself on giving good interview (as I like to say) but I was really nervous for this meeting.

Maybe it was the three months of unrequited searching and calling. Or maybe it was the fact that I’ve begun to tap into my savings to pay my mortgage. Or maybe it was the increasing numbers of friends and colleagues now with me in the unemployment queue.

Whatever the reasons, I couldn’t seem to think in complete sentences. I broke out in a cold sweat. My hands shook. My pre-interview confidence had done its own serious downsizing.

Even so, I managed to pull it together despite walking both into the wrong building and onto the wrong floor when finally in the correct building. I made it through the hour-long, three-person panel interview. I think I presented myself well: answering all of their questions thoroughly, asking a few good ones of my own and demonstrating that I know my subject matter while also admitting to a few areas where I could stand a bit of improvement.

After the interview, I was emotionally and physically spent. I knew then, unlike during my intense prep period, that there was nothing more I could do to get this job. To steady my nerves, I did what I’ve done following each successful interview I had over the past seven years: I sought out a stool at my favorite café for a glass (or two) of wine.

On my way there, I buoyed myself by concentrating on the realization that my interview-to-job conversion rate runs about 80 percent over my career, most recently going 3 for 3. I walked to the door. I tugged the handle...

Closed! For remodeling! Why didn’t they check with me first?! This was bad. This is my post-interview ritual, and I feel like I need all of the luck I can get right now.

Deflated, I was forced to test my luck at a new locale. It’s funny how we turn to ritual, to something we can duplicate, when everything gets chaotic. It’s funny how hard we seek unrelated, disconnected assurances that things will turn out OK.

I’ve had the luxury of being selective in my search and this is a job that I know I would both enjoy and at which I would excel.  But that luxury is almost spent and within the next three months -- without a new income stream -- I will need to start making hard decisions about whether to hold onto my condo or start pulling credit to pay for it.  Every day brings announcements of more massive layoffs resulting in more competition for scarce positions. Every day my future becomes a little scarier.
 
Now, several days post-interview, the agony takes the form of waiting and managing personal expectations.  They told me I should hear back in a week.  Cross your fingers.