The painful thing about job searching isn’t the rejection email.
“After careful consideration and review, we’ve decided to move forward
with other candidates who more closely align….” No, the hard part is spending countless interview hours carefully constructing responses to questions like, “Tell me why you’ve decided to apply for this position with our company?” Because I need a job and I can swiftly execute the commands that will be asked of me. Because I hit most of the bulleted points in the job description.

Not flowery enough.
Not passionate enough.
“I’m really looking to make an impact insert lofty and noble mission and how only THIS company and THIS role allows it to be fulfilled.”

I, myself, am seldom convinced, far from 100% sold, not even close to all-in. And maybe in my not-poetic-enough responses they, too, can tell. He’d rather be doing something else. This isn’t his calling. Let’s not keep him from his purpose. Which brings me back to the hard part. The only question I should be grappling with, to answer with pitch-perfect insight, is “What’s my purpose?”

I’ve held a fair number of jobs, on paper career shifted a few times. I can do a lot of things. A veritable Swiss army knife. A walking Batman toolbelt. Jack of all trades, though I’m not sure if that’s a fair trade-off for mastering none. What am I trying to master? What is mine to do?

Deep down I know. We know. But that knowing, the certainty, the core of self-fulfillment and actualization, is buried under layers of flab. Doubt, guilt, anger, whatever shit we’re working with or around, living with or through. So then, what of my toolbelt? Am I trying to finely slice grade-A plus top fancy 22 oz steak with a butter knife? I have all the tools, but maybe I’m using them on the wrong task.

First-round, second-round, in-between interviews and writing samples and phone calls and pleasant emails with good mornings and warm regards and, I understand. Thank you for your time. Please keep my resume on file for future openings. Waiting for them to open up, and here I am, closed off to myself. Therein lies the frustration. My knuckles aren’t raw or roughly scabbed from knocking on the door of what seems like a “good opportunity.” My head hurts from banging it against the wall. Repeatedly. Fed up. Wondering. Nay, interrogating. Why do they keep choosing the other candidates?

It’s because I haven’t chosen myself.

I should write a cover letter to myself about my qualifications and qualities. I’ll address it to myself and in it, I’ll glowingly and emphatically speak volumes about how dope of a person I am. How hard I work. How committed I am to missions, how connected to values. And everyday, I’ll interview myself. Tell me about a time where you overcame an obstacle and what you learned from it. Give me an example of how you resolved a conflict with a customer. Plenty to choose from considering how often I’ve had to silence my inner critic. The customer ain’t always right. I’ll then come up with a list of tasks for my position, ooh, and a title. Me. CEO of The Me Organization. ME-EO. Sorry, I couldn’t resist but that’s the point, I wouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t have to comprise. Trade my artist t-shirts for shirt and ties. Remove the bridge piercing from between my eyes. I’d call the shots; the show would be mine.

And when would I start?

Right now. Because in actuality, I’ve already begun.

And I’ve always known.