Phase 18: "Good shot! You've just landed your first Newjita!"

      Well, the inevitable happened. I landed a job. So, ends the 5 month and 2 day adventure in the world of the unemployed. To do a quick summary. During this time I have applied for 211 jobs, had 14 first interviews, 9 second interviews, one drug-test and as of yesterday afternoon, at 3:00 I was offered a job.
      As much as being shockingly unemployed filled me with weird emotions, so, oddly enough, does suddenly being offered one after a long period of time also feels kind of strange. Kind of strange, like hunting with my Dad, putting my woodland skills to use and bringing down my first rabbit.

      I grew up in a family of hunters. My grandfather grew up as a kid during the depression and often was given two .22 caliber bullets to bring in food for the family for a week. Boy Scouting was also part of the formation of all three generations. A good portion of being a scout is about survival, and providing for yourself and your family. Those things have been very important to me as well, and have been crucial during this time of my life when I began questioning many aspects of my situation and how I could possibly get through it.

     Looking back over my posts, I realized that many of my posts related to just these situations. Survival, providing, and moving forward. Relying on what I have learned to deal with the situation. So, now on the cusp of re-entering the workforce, I have realized that, oddly enough, I was just settling in to a new survival mode. I have spent the last few months figuring out how to survive, how to provide and how to deal with the situation of being unemployed, and now, I have to adapt to a new situation.
     I must admit that the day-to-day life of the unemployed person has been strange. I have no real schedule 'forced' on me by an employer, so I often stay up later than I should, and have definitely spent many mornings sleeping in later than usual. As I have mentioned in past posts, 'employment' provides structure and in the absence of structure, we are lost. With all the time on my hands, my mind has drifted like a volleyball on the ocean (see Phase 15) . Thoughts of what to do from simple to bizarre, crazy to even illegal, crossed my mind. Trying to figure out how to get by, how to provide for my family. And, to be honest, the longer this period of unemployment stretched, the more depressing it has become - full circle from the feelings I had when I first lost my job.

      Yesterday, after being informed I had been hired, driving around, stuck in traffic, I began remembering how I felt the first time I actually killed an animal on a hunting trip with my Dad, Uncle and cousins.

     Prior to that first kill, I had spent time as a 'flusher' as my Dad called it. A flusher works a trail, reading signs of the animals, trying to scare them out of cover, so that the guys with the guns, who were flanking us could make the kill. After a couple seasons of flushing and a couple years of proper firearms training, through the Boy Scouts, my Dad made the decision that I had earned the right to hunt with the grown ups. A moment of pride and a right of passage among the men of our family. The task of flusher was now passed on to my brother.

     So, much like my discussion in a previous post (Phase 4), the hunt has been challenging. And, much like the fist time I sighted in and killed my first rabbit I have mixed feelings about the result. In the past, staring down at the fresh kill, the almost sweet smell of cordite combined with the much more muted scent of blood seeping from the rabbit at my feet, the cold, crisp December air, the post-gunfire silence that hangs like a blanket. My Dad, Uncle and friends closing the gap between me and the dead rabbit - them all smiling proudly at me! While I stood there, the adrenaline of the hunt and kill working it's way through my system, confused. My Dad reached me first, "Great shot son! You got him! He's gonna make a good stew! Now bag him and let's get going. There's more great eating out here!"

    Landing a job has been very similar to this experience. I spent time preparing, learning the ropes from other successful job hunters, putting my skills to the test, beating the brush of want-ads, eventually becoming worthy enough to take the shot - make the impression and in the end, catch the elusive Newjita. Much like that first kill, I sat in my car thinking, "O.K. I got one. But why doesn't it feel right?"
     One part of me is happy - finally I will be able to bring in the economic kill of a paycheck again. Man, the provider! The other part of me is, well, kind of disappointed.  For the last couple of weeks I had quite enjoyed the process of being the 'flusher'. Really, it's not that hard, you crash around the job market, looking for trails that might lead to the lair of a Newjita. But, if I don't flush one out in one gully, then I just move on. I simply adjust my resume, and cover letter and crash on.
     Then one day, I received a phone call for an interview - the chance to use my weapons - to prove I can bring down the Newjita and make the people around me proud.

     After a warming ride for us in the cab of the pick-up, the dead rabbits became stiff, the combination of rigor and cold air, sure to quench any bit of life that may have been in them. Once home, we all shared a hot pot of coffee, each hunter detailing the events of the days kill.

     Spreading the news of landing a job has been eerily similar to sharing hunting stories around the pot of coffee with the other hunters. Some hunters have had many kills, and lots of stories. Others have had only a few, and have less to add -- so they embellish their stories. I felt it just as important to share my successful 'hunt' with others, and they, like my Dad and Uncles did after I shot the rabbit,  have come rushing to me with congratulations via text-message, email and phone calls. And, I still have that weird feeling. "Thanks, but, really, it's not that big of a kill."

      Sitting at the stop light, texting my wife about the news, I can't help feel a bit sad, like I did looking at the freshly killed rabbit. I can't really say I enjoyed hunting. I am glad I learned the skills to do the job, but how often will I really need them? After all, we live in an age where hunting is not really necessary - at least that often. The stew made from the rabbit tasted good. The pay checks I will get will pay the bills, but honestly, in the end, much like hunting and killing rabbits, I really hope I don't have the need to do it for a long time.