Employment

Well, people: I've been offered a job. Last Friday, I had a pair of interviews. The first was with an American airline magazine (yeah, a bit weird, what with the whole "this is London, not the US" thing). The second was with an English-language, German financial newspaper-thingy. Hmm, right up my alley, right? I do find rather odd jobs, don't I?

So all weekend the thought of whether or not either place would call me was bumping around in the back of my mind. Which job would I want more? Will I get either? Was I shit in the interviews? (I showed up late for one because someone fell in front of a tube and the station I needed was partially closed... rather ominous, eh?) Do I want either job?

Anyways, the second people called me (just one guy did the actual telephoning... obviously), yesterday morning, to offer me the job. That'd be the one with the Germans (Oooh, the German's are coming!) It's basically helping produce a news update mini-paper that goes out every afternoon on trains and planes. So, as far as I can tell, my job is to figure out what stories we need, pull them from Reuters, sub-edit/edit/maybe write news briefs from some, get pictures and layout the thing. Not much writing, which is a bit of a disapointment, but I am done for the day by 3pm, so it gives me a few free hours to get some freelancing in. Other upsides: people there are hella nice, it's in Holborn (coupla streets north of Fleet Street), and it pays stupidly good. How good? The other interviewer guy, from the airline mag, mocked me for suggesting I'm worth 5k less than these people have offered. (He actually mocked me! In an interview!)

The post-job-offer elation only lasted a few minutes, I have to admit. Not that it's not a good job, or anything. It is. It's just a bit anti-climatic. And, I think, it has a lot to do with me not wanting to really work in financial journalism, but in some form of journalism (who knows what, which is rather part of the problem) that makes a difference (or feels like it's making a difference) in the world. I want to change people's minds, not let them know the latest stock market numbers. Basically, I'm selling out for a year. Given my frighteningly massive debt, I think this is allowable, forgiveable even. I'm just worried I'll like the money/comfort/whatever too much at the end of the year. What if this time next year I think: "Hmm, I should stay at this job for another year, to pay off a bit more debt..." And then I get headhunted or get a raise and I never leave... and then ten years from now, I'm a (*shudder*) financial journalist, and--though my stock portfolio rocks beyond belief--everything I've thought about and dreamt about and wanted to be is completely dead and lost and irretrieveable.

This keeps me awake at night.

And yes, there is the comfort that if I'm so worried about this, then I won't let it happen. But I ask this favour, of all of you: if by this time next year, I'm not making plans to move on from my well-paid, nice-but-not-what-I-want job to something I actually want to do, then I want you to punch me, hard and repeatedly in the face, until I recover my senses. Deal?