Someone Wants Me

After upwards of 400 job applications submitted from the East Coast to the West Coast and the No Coast in between, finally someone wants me.

It took until the interview process to realize how much I actually want/need a job. I mean, I knew I needed one, but it wasn’t until something actually seemed promising that I felt that drive again.

I’ve loved the jobs I’ve had. And I haven’t had many. I started at Goodwill when I was 16 and worked there for almost four years, then at a car dealership for almost four years, then at NP Dodge for a year. Then London for three months while I finished my masters, followed by a couple years of unemployment and self-employment.

When the Target opportunity came up, it reminded me of the NP Dodge opportunity. When I was desperately trying to get away from the car dealership, I saw an opening for an escrow officer at NP Dodge and had no idea what that word even meant. I knew I fit most of the requirements and I knew that I was a quick learner, so I went ahead and applied on a whim. Much to my surprise, I was called in for an interview. I remember exactly what I wore. I had a great time in the interview and was told that they had a few others to do, so I should hear at some point. I went home and took a nap and was woken from that nap with a phone call: a job offer.

I ended up absolutely loving escrow and real estate. And I really excelled at it. After a few months, I was promoted to a salaried position and had a junior officer working under me. Soon after that, I was handling all of the REOs and FSBOs. It really killed me to leave. I know I wrote about it in here somewhere. It really did. I should have gone back, actually, after finishing my masters. I was just so sure that I’d land the perfect job in social media somewhere in New York.

Until I didn’t. I had quick-links at the top of my browser for HBO jobs, BBC jobs, BBC America jobs, AMC jobs, NBC jobs, ABC jobs, Discovery jobs, Time Warner jobs; pretty much every major network. I was on LinkedIn for hours every day scrolling through page after page of social media manager jobs and the like. I realized quickly that with the SM manager positions, they required anywhere from 1-5 years of experience. I applied anyway, but it was just one meme after another.

I had limited myself to the coasts, so I started pulling in from each direction. Okay, no one in New York or California wants me, maybe something in Connecticut or Washington? Okay, no one there, so maybe Colorado or Chicago? On top of that, I had started applying for whatever job was available at the places I actually wanted to work (the networks). Got a receptionist job open? Okay, hire me. Someone needed in the mail room? I’ll do it. Finally, I was applying for the same thing in Omaha, wondering if I’d ever be able to do anything remotely like I had dreamed.

When I moved to Minnesota with Andrew, I started looking around at anything surrounding me to see what kind of jobs were available. Lo and behold, the same IT/nursing jobs that were in Omaha were up here, too. i.e. nothing for which I was qualified. I found some social media or otherwise media-related positions open, but either I didn’t have the experience (cue the memes) or I just didn’t get the job in the end.

I’m sure I’ve said it before, but just in case I haven’t: I know how extremely blessed and fortunate I am to having been able to support myself off of my savings/trust for so long whilst looking for a job. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, much like much else, without my grandparents having the foresight and ability to create such a thing. I think it also enabled me to not search as frantically, and it definitely allowed me to hold out for the right job. Even when I panicked and got anxiety about my dwindling savings, I knew I had at least another year, if I so needed. But then it’d be gone, and what would my grandparents say, if they could?

So in the midst of another mild panic attack regarding just that topic, I decided to see if there were any openings at this Target Express down the street. Yes, Target Express. Google it. It’s amazing. I’m obsessed with it. I’m possessive over it. I need one like, in my apartment. Anyway, there was a Team Lead position open. My first thought was, oh I don’t have any leadership experience – thinking, I’ve never had the title of ‘manager.’ But like the escrow officer situation, I did meet the other requirements, so I submitted an application.

Two days later, I got a call about coming in for an interview. That interview was life-changing, no joke. The woman I met with just totally turned my view around: I had loads of leadership experience, I had led many people and many situations. She told me to be confident in that. She even said that I was phenomenal. I can say with 100% certainty that I’ve never gotten that compliment in my life. I walked out of that interview with my head held so high. And I actually had hope again. I didn’t even realize just how hopeless I’d become until she gave some hope back to me. I doubt very much I’ll ever have an interview quite like that again.

After that, I interviewed with that woman’s mentor, who has been with Target for as long as I’ve been on Earth. Then I got to move on to the next one, and the next one, and suddenly, I’m at the First Ever Target to make sure I will be a good fit. When the store leader of THE Target said she’d love to have me as part of her team, I legit got choked up right there in her office. Someone actually wants me. Someone actually sees value in me. Someone thinks I’d be a good addition to their team, their company. It had been so long.

I walked straight out onto the sales floor and bought a few pairs of khakis and a few red shirts.

My goal is to not only sail through training and rise in the ranks, but to hopefully express just how thankful and honored I truly am for this opportunity. I know I expressed in each interview just how much of a Target fangirl I am, but I mean, I’m actually sitting here in tears just writing this up.

Who knows what this opportunity has in store for me. And Andrew. And for us. I mean, this is going to help us with our goal to find a house in another year or so. This is going to save us so much money on groceries and everything else we need. Personally, this is going to give me something to do. Something to get me out of the house. Something to feel like I’m part of the human race again. I have worth again. I can get rid of the guilt I’ve felt for depleting my trust. Hell, I can better serve the purposes of Far From Everything Films. Just.. so many good things.

Oh, one of my favorite parts: I had forgotten to take my lip ring out when I was meeting with HR, so I apologized for it. She said, “so what? You can wear that here.”

I have half of my head shaved, gauged ears, and a lip piercing, and all of that is okay. (Here come the tears again). Seriously, it’s never been okay. I had to ask/beg permission to put blue in my hair while I was at Goodwill. I got written up at Woodhouse for forgetting to take out my lip piercing. The head on the stud was stuck and I couldn’t get it off without greasy pliers from the service department, cutting up my lip in the process. I couldn’t wear it at NP Dodge either. Nor do I remember having any sort of wild hair along the way.

Now it’s okay. Now I’m okay just as I am. Not like these things make me who I am, but they are part of me. And they’re okay. What a relief.

This whole situation is such a relief. Finally, someone wants me. Target wants me. And Target wants me for me.



Speaking of someone wanting me, I’m also blessed to have a partner who wants me, and wants me for me. In spite of the fact that I worry too much and I’m a shit and I’m petty and I hardly ever put any effort into my appearance (subject to change with impending job) and I never help with the dishes and leave hair in the shower and otherwise leave the house a mess and whine when he stays at work late and whine just a lot of the time, probably, and make the occasional comment about wanting a ring and a baby and a house and an additional dog (or four) and all these other things, he seems to love me and even like me.

I’d quote a bunch of Sara Bareilles lyrics now, but I’ve already wept enough during this post.

One Does Not Simply…

Like Things Anymore.

I swear to God that it’s impossible for me to get into anything without a friend calling me “obsessed.”

Because I watch all five seasons of Flashpoint, I’m obsessed. Because I buy a couple books by Richard Hammond after watching Top Gear, I’m obsessed. Because I watch an episode of Sherlock that I’ve seen quite a few times, I need to “take a breather.”

Should I have stopped watching a show after really liking the first couple episodes? When you open a bag of chips, do you eat a couple crisps and then put the bag away so you don’t look hungry?

I don’t fuckin’ get it.

I shouldn’t get defensive or offended, but seriously, what the hell?

Why is it weird or wrong or obsessive to experience something, find that you really enjoy it, and then continue to experience it so that the enjoyment also continues?

How do you ever discover new things?

So glad early explorers weren’t concerned with being perceived as “obsessive” when they decided to further check out some land, even though the land on which they were standing was perfectly fine.

Why do producers even produce more than a few episodes of shows? I mean, obsessed much? Why do authors write more than one book with the same main character? Hello, get a life. And don’t even get me started on bands who write more than one album. What are you trying to do?!

Oh, the best one I’ve gotten so far is “London Looney” after posting a photo on Instagram.

Welp. I’ll see you guys when I come back from treatment of my London addiction. Luckily for me, the best treatment is exposure therapy.

One day, I’ll have the strength to overcome my passion for film, television, music, and other media, but until I die, happily consider me a weak sonovabitch.


But if I don’t tell Facebook, it’s like it never happened!


(We Know Memes)

Thanks to a snafu with the order of my textbooks, I have not received them yet; however, I was inspired to post this evening after a trip to the gym.

I have a few gym-rat friends on Facebook. You know the type: posting every day about how jacked they got lifting weights, hashtagging (on Facebook for absolutely no reason) stuff like “#dontquit”, “#getfit”, etc, and the worst – posting mirror pics of their ripped abs or bulging biceps. I’m always tempted to post a photo of my unfit bod with the caption: “Lazed on the couch for four hours tonight after work #nevermissaday #getfat.”

So, tonight after my Zumba class (#holycrap #outofshape), I got in my car and grabbed my phone to check for any notifications. Immediately, I thought, “Oh man, I should totally check-in on Facebook. But wait, then I’ll just be one of my friends who checks in to the gym every day so everyone knows they were there…” and I did it anyway, satirically, of course, and strictly for the sake of science.

I swear you are able to check in ANYWHERE. When I went to London in December, I could check in at a street corner. “Nina is at Starbucks! – Praed Street, London, W2” Awesome. Creeper deluxe.

Anymore, unless I’m checking up on some distant friends, conversing with physically distant friends, or posting photos, Facebook drives me nuts. A quote from the movie Easy A (2010) comes to mind:

Mr. Griffith: I don’t know what your generation’s fascination is with documenting your every thought… but I can assure you, they’re not all diamonds. “Roman is having an OK day, and bought a Coke Zero at the gas station. Raise the roof.” Who gives a rat’s ass?
Olive Penderghast: [Mocks interest] He got a Coke Zero AGAIN. Ah, that Roman. Incorrigible.” (IMDb)

We all know those people, too. Documenting every move made, every thought thunk. I’ve found myself unsubscribing from folks’ posts because I’m just tired of reading that you biked another 10 miles today, or that you’re happy it’s Friday (we all are). I am bashing this with full understanding and acceptance that I used to be one of those posters. I thought everything I said was hilarious and required sharing. Now I just say it to someone and get the gratification of hearing the LOL, not just reading it.

But what IS this generation’s fixation on posting to Facebook? Or Twitter? And it’s not just this generation. I just pray that my grandma never signs up for any of that. That’ll be another unsubscription.

Before Facebook, we had to call, text, or email people to let them know what was up, or find out what was up. Now we’ve got unlimited access to everyone at all times, and we’re on information overload with everyone’s current whereabouts. It honestly gives me a reason to not call people. I don’t need to – you’ve kept me thoroughly updated via Facebook and it shows up right on my newsfeed when I log on. Thanks, friends.

Of course, there are awesome things about Facebook – being able to connect with people you might not have seen or talked to in years, being able to connect to people anywhere in the world, raising awareness, among many other benefits; unfortunately, it has become a bit of a worldwide obsession that affect us in ways we might not know – it can cost someone his/her job, be an outlet for cyber-bullying, or even lead to stolen identities (CNBC – The Facebook Obsession).

And I won’t be sharing this blog post on Facebook.



CNBC. (2013). The Facebook Obsession. Acc. Jan 16, 2013.

IMDb. (2013). Easy A (2010) – Memorable quotes. Acc. Jan 16, 2013.

We Know Memes. (2012). Most People Don’t Realize This, But… July 3, 2012. Acc. Jan 16, 2013.


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