The pull towards Colorado was not a new one, it was just one I could finally manage. Having recently decided to work towards a career with the National Forests or National. Park Service, west of the East coast is really the place to be. And at 30, I am financially independent enough and emotionally strong enough to move 2,300 miles away from my comfort zone. So, I did. I started looking, found a job with a start date of three weeks from the afternoon of my interview, met a roommate via craigslist (so far, he's not a serial killer), gave my landlord notice, listed online (and sold) most of my furniture, quit my job and drove to Colorado. The entire process took 23 days.
On day 17, around 7 pm, minutes after my last piece of furniture went out the door (a couch, purchased less than a year ago at $200, sold to a happy middle-aged couple for $75) and I prepared for the following day (my last day of work at my current job), I received an email from my future boss. She was "sorry" to have to do this, but her business was having a few "things" going on, and she would not be able to hire me after all.
I flipped. I freaked out. I cried, threw my phone, punched the air mattress (because I had no couch, bed, or other furniture to hit), called my mom, cried some more, took a walk (as much to calm myself - as a friend who had never heard me "lose it" before suggested- as to pick up the Chinese food I had ordered before I got the email), and sat down to apply for every job available in my future town. This entire process took about an hour.
The same friend who suggested I take a walk also constantly refers to me as "relentless". My mother points out that when I want something, I seem to simply force it to happen. I arrived in Colorado the following Friday afternoon, interviewed for a position on Saturday, and was working by 6:45 on Monday morning. For two whole days, I planted flowers and pulled weeds and squatted more in 20 hours of work than I ever have in my life. I couldn't breathe (the shock of high altitude), got sunburned wearing SPF 50, and was so sore that it hurt to sit. The term "unprepared" comes to mind.
By the end of day two, my original employer had come calling. Things were picking up, she needed more help, when could I start? Against the better judgment of literally everyone I mentioned this to, I took the job and started the following day.
If it walks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, and it swims in the pond with little fluffy babies following it, it's probably a flaky, declining company with poor management and a drinking problem. If you're really lucky, maybe it comes with a creepy middle aged boss who leers at you on day one and makes inappropriate comments about your physique to other employees. If you're even luckier, maybe the owner is a liar.
To save you all the gory details, I will simply say it didn't work out. However, on my last day working there, I received a phone call. A neighboring municipality was just now hiring for the seasonal parks and trails maintenance job that I had (forgotten that I) applied for. Why yes, I would love to interview.
I start next week.
The moral of this story is not that you should always listen to your friends and family's advice (although, maybe you should). It is also not to tell you that you should stick with a job you don't really like, because the next one could be worse (although there's probably a pretty good lesson in there, too).
The real purpose of this tale is that everything can be worked out with a little time and some diligence. So next time I feel like crying and throwing my phone, maybe a deep breath instead. Things will work out. After all, they always have.
