Tenuous Grip on Reality

"I just can't picture it," I tried to explain to Friend when she asked one more time how I could turn down the California offer. How I could look at a wonderful job that almost never becomes available, consider fabulous people who really want to work with me, and think of the California scenery and still shake my head side to side instead of up and down.

"I try to see myself there - in that sunny cubicle in the corner of the floor, surrounded happy people who love their jobs, walking downstairs to the incredibly clean and lovely locker room and slipping into a jacuzzi to ease away any stress that might linger after I work on things I know how to do." Friend nodded, head cocked as she tried to understand. "And my brain giggles." I concluded. "It's just ridiculous - stuff like that doesn't happen. Who puts waterfalls on campus? Offers 5 weeks of vacation and a fully vested 401K to brand new people? Where is it beautiful all year and full of people who think I'm so cool they have to hire me? It doesn't make sense. They're all crazy and I can't deal with it."

"So it has to be miserable and hard to be right?" she clarified, forehead creased in a frown, likely while she decided whether we should finish our Greek food or she should rush to have me committed.

"Not constantly miserable," I said, forking up a bit more salad and beginning to chew. I grinned while she shook her head at me and sipped more sweet tea.

I decided not to go to work today, snuggling into the office bed and napping instead. I dreamed I had started at Industry but was still interviewing. I remember trying to schedule enough people and say enough of the right things to make them pay attention to me. At one point, I promised to drag my office chair across campus to a meeting just to be overly impressive. So I was carrying my chair down some steps and I sat down in it to push with my feet and roll across the sidewalk toward a castle-like building. I kept getting caught on pebbles and in cracks in the sidewalk. When I stopped to rest, I got scared because there were people hurrying around me and I didn't want to be late.

I finally arrived at the castle, having risen from the chair and gripped the top of the back to pull it behind me, and there was a padded step - as large as a very big bed - that had to be conquered before reaching the main office level. I tossed my chair ahead of me, but the wheels sank into the padded surface and I didn't have the strength to lift it to the landing. People steamed past me, bouncing the bed-like surface as they hopped to the main level, but nobody offered to help.

I wandered down the hall after I woke, a little shaken, and told myself I could handle Industry. I might be a tough transition and I'd have to battle for attention, but I could do this.

"Drug Company isn't going to move fast enough anyway," I told Friend yesterday, almost relieved. She looked skeptical when I said the Industry offer should be here any day now, but nodded her understanding when I said Drug Company was constrained by hiring rules and moving through that process took time. I comforted myself that there wouldn't ever really be a decision to make. Industry offer would arrive, I'd negotiate for a better relocation package and all would proceed as planned.

So, once safely ensconced on the loveseat in the living room, I began looking at houses in the upper Midwest. Given a package that gets me out of my current house, I can easily afford a nice place with a fenced yard. So I was squinting at pictures and trying to imagine having a basement for storage again when the phone rang.

"Katie," a deep voice said and introduced himself as my new HR representative from Drug Company. I smiled when I wondered if my open hostility had resulted in a switch to someone I found less offensive. All perfection, all the time - that's Drug Company! "I wondered if you had an offer from Industry and wanted to update you on how things were going out here."

"Nope," I replied quickly. "They say soon - perhaps tomorrow. I'll let you know if tomorrow ever comes."

"Well," he said, "we put a rush on your background check and should have results by the end of today. While I'm not at liberty to say more until we know that everything checks out properly, you can guess that this might be the final stage."

"OK," I said slowly.

"So as soon as I hear back from them - and I say this unofficially - you might see how fast we can move at the official offer stage."

"I understand," I said and laughed. "And it's really lovely of you to keep me updated. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he noted and promised to call back soon and gave me his number in case I had any questions at all.

"Perfect," I said and thanked him again. Then I sat and looked around at my cluttered living room. I wondered what more I should pack and if these boxes might, in fact, head west instead of north here shortly.

This is driving me crazy though. I'm very scared and confused and upset. (And also feeling spectacularly lucky to have such a decision to make at all.) Perhaps if my head explodes from the pressure of waiting and trying to make some decision, I won't have to decide between west and north at all.