Well, You May as Well Laugh

If you have a choice between laughing and crying, crying just won't solve anything.

But, man, what a day!

With luck, I will be getting my PhD by June, so I am seeking teaching work. I've been a teaching assistant and done a boat load of guest lectures, etc, but have never run my own course by myself. Having a baby and such has left me slightly behind my classmates, as most of them have taught some class by now - so, basically, I'm the "special" kid.

But, I the found a perfect opportunity for my first "real" gig - a class that was perfect for me, within range of public transit, at the school where I did my previous degree. Sadly, though, I only found about this two days before the application deadline, so it was a bit of a scramble to make up a syllabus and design a coursepack, etc. However, I did it! The syllabus was tight, and the cover letter charming (if I do say so myself). I was feeling really good.

...

... Until today.

What a comedy of errors!

Since the deadline was today, I had to fax the application where normally I would have mailed it. But, as they listed the fax number, this was not a concern. Before heading out, I wondered if I should also email it, before faxing, in case the fax quality ended up shoddy. The chair of the dept is a prof I knew, as I had taken a seminar from him, so I thought to call to ask. Bad Move # 1.

Just before calling, the tot (who turns two on Sunday) was as good as gold. But the VERY MOMENT I dialed, all hell broke loose. Then the prof didn't answer, sending me to voice mail... I totally froze. As the seconds ticked by, I was totally aware of "you seem so friggin weird right now - SAY SOMETHING OR HANG UP." Then, of course, there's the split second debate of whether, if they have call display, will your number show up as a hang-up, and, if so, will that look weirder than your muddled message. Quickly (though seriously not quickly enough), I made a decision, and, amidst toddler squeals, said something about having a question about the application, but that I would call the dept admin assistant.

Hanging up, I bit back some profanity as I realized I had indeed left my full name on that travesty. So, now I looked like an idiot, as well as what I am - a mom with a small child. Everyone wants to hire one of those, right???

The admin assistant was not in, so I made an executive decision and emailed the application, explaining that it was in case of fax error, etc., but that I would fax it shortly.

So, time to get ready to leave. We ended up missing the bus due to someone's desire to play the "mommy's-in-a-hurry-so-I-better-hide-my-boots" game that is ever so popular around here these days, making a trip to my office on campus not really possible. So, determined, I set out to walk to the post office to send my fax before the deadline of 4pm...

Well, the world seems in the throws of Ragnarok out there, and the driving snow forced me to abandon the mission half way when I found a little convenience store where the lady said they sent faxes. Bad Move #2.

ONE HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER the lady finally said she thought it had sent. Mind you, she was a very nice lady, so I really tried to be chipper, but... WTH? Sure, it was a ten page application, but 75 minutes? Really? (All while rolling a very upset baby around the cramped store and trying to avoid a screaming fit, btw.)

Anyway, she said she thought it sent. So I said, "OK, are you sure?" Yes, she said - SHE HAD SENT IT FOUR TIMES, TO BE SURE.

FOUR TIMES.

FOUR.

So, by this point, to the recipient, I look like amateur hour at the School for the Criminally Stupid. That admin assistant must have been sitting in her office for that last hour wondering what kind of moron figured out how to play with the fax machine. And... there was my name.

On four copies.

So, finally, screaming toddler in tow, I left the store after paying a hugely inflated fax fee. Only to find that Ragnarok had turned into the seventh layer of hell if that were melded with Antarctica. Seriously. Penguins were languishing in the ditches. It was really not good.

Making our way home, over sidewalks that were not shoveled, I was eventually forced to remove my overcoat to add some extra shielding to the stroller. So, dejected and freezing, we retraced our steps home.

We must have looked fairly pathetic because a nice young couple stopped and offered us a ride. Having no carseat, and never without the lessons of Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo far from my mind, I said no, but man alive how I wanted to say yes. We weren't far from home, but at this point I seriously felt like crying.

(Luckily, though, tot was extremely well protected, so it was just a matter of discomfort for me - he was so well packed, he could have been in Biodome III for all he knew. Meanwhile, I am still shivering.)

So, finally, after arriving home, I called my mum, feeling like breaking down in sobs. I didn't, because I know how that sort of thing upsets her. But, I knew at that point that I should write that job off as lost (that way, if I do get a call, it will be a pleasant surprize... or miracle, I should say), so I could feel depression oozing from every pore on my body. I was miserable, cold and embarrassed.

But just then it occurred to me. This experience was, though horrible, an epic misadveture that I will, one day, look back on and laugh about... so why wait?

To my mother's surprize, I just about busted a gut.

My life... ever surprizing. You really may as well laugh right?

... So, I guess that's my point for today... how is everyone else doing?