The Waiting Game

October 04, 2003, 2:08 p.m.
Yesterday I slipped into a suit jacket, pulled a silk blouse from its dry cleaning bag and wore pantyhose for the first time in 5 years: I had a job interview.

I’ve been looking for writing-related work to supplement my freelance income and applied for a position as a part-time reporter for a local paper. Within 24 hours of submitting my resume, I got called in for an interview.

I paced around the house for two hours before the interview practicing answers to interview questions, trying on everything in my closet, fretting over the pimples that appeared overnight and wishing I’d had time to get my hair cut.

The entire interview took less than an hour. I met with the managing editor and two reporters. They filled me in on the details of the position and we talked about my experience. But mostly, we just chatted. It sounds like the perfect position: I would be working with a small team of writers and editors to cover community issues. The hours are flexible and the position has a lot of autonomy. There would be a space for me to work in the newsroom, but most of the work could be done from home (which means there would be almost no need to ever wear pantyhose again).

Now I have to wait.

On the drive home, I made a deal with fate: If I made every light from the highway exit, the job would be mine. It was a risky move – there are 6 stoplights on the way home and I was competing with rush hour traffic – but I did it: Every light was green.