How did I get here? Part Three

The waiting was horrible. They might call any day and offer him this Princeton Library job. Or they might send a letter saying, no, they chose someone else. We just didn't know when they were going to make their selection.

They wanted someone there by the second week of September, and it was already the second week of August, so they couldn't spend too long deciding. Right? And with only three people to choose from, how hard could their decision be?

By responding so quickly both after he submitted his application and after his phone interview, they got me thinking they would be letting us know their final decision right away, too. Within the week for sure, right?

That's what I told myself. Within the week. So every time the phone rang, I just KNEW it was going to be Princeton. But it never was.

Day after day, they didn't call. That whole week--no one from Princeton called us. But someone else did. On Friday, August 13th. It was Jeremy's professor at the University of Washington, one of the people Jeremy had listed as a reference. He wanted to let Jeremy know he'd just hung up the phone with Princeton. In other words, they were calling Jeremy's references. And you don't do that if you've ruled someone out, right?

I'm not sure if that made the waiting easier or harder. There was still hope. But there was still the waiting. The weekend was sort of a break from waiting for the phone to ring, since we knew they wouldn't call on a Saturday or Sunday. I still could not turn my brain off about it.

In a way it was fun to dream about the job and speculate about the pay--this was something we'd gotten no numbers about at all. And hadn't asked.

Monday for sure, we'll hear. Right?
Well, then Tuesday. The 18th. No.
They had to call on Wednesday. That's a week and a half! That's eons.
On Thursday, when it was after 5pm on the east coast and we had no more hope of hearing from them, I was utterly depressed. I don't know what Jeremy was thinking, but I had figured that in a few days time we would be getting a "no, sorry" letter.

After I put baby to bed, I needed to run something over to my brother Paul's house. I stood in his kitchen and talked to him and Tasha about the whole situation. They listened kindly. And I felt so much better after talking to them. Just to be able to drive to a brother's house and visit with him and his family. So helpful. That's one of the blessings I was so cavalierly ignoring as I hoped and hoped and hoped for this job that would move us away from almost all of my family.
I thought about this as I drove home. Did I really want to leave Boise and all my relatives there? Maybe it would be fine if he didn't get the job. Really.

Yes, I felt better. But I was still waiting.