Oh, I am in a Mood. And not, as one might suspect, a good one. Surprise.

About a month ago, I applied for a masters-level psychologist position at the prison. I had all sorts of ambivalence about the application, because it was doing very much what I would like to be doing, but it starts 3 months before I was planning to return to work. But I applied, anyway. Because my supervisor, when I was volunteering, would be my supervisor for that job, and he handed me the job description and said, "Please apply for this."

Ohhhh, okay. Twist my arm, why don't ya?

So, I sent in the application. Which was a pdf form, but was screwed up so that I could enter in text but couldn't save or send it. Fantastic. But I could print it, so I did. And mailed it. How archaic.

And sat through deafening silence for a week and a half no acknowledgement of receipt, nothing. I called, and got, "Oh, we're still processing it." It's a 6-page form, how much processing does it take? Apparently, a LOT.

Another week and a half goes by, and I call again. This time it's, "We've never received an application from you, you're not on the list." Ummm.... huh? And lest you think this is a case of getting lost in a huge corporation, there are a grand total of THREE employees in the HR department. Three. Two of them remembered speaking to me, and yet couldn't find the application. Oh, wonderful. So I get transferred to the supervisor, who says, "Oh, no, we got your application. But you don't have a master's degree in psychology, so we threw it out."

Oh dear. Let me try and express the incredible effort in self-restraint it took not to freak out on the woman. And really, it wasn't to save her feelings, it was to prevent my kids from learning some pithy new words.

So I explained that, yeah-HUH, I did SO have a master's in psychology. So she said she would refer it to HER supervisor, who would "get back to you soon." Baloney. This was a Friday afternoon, and it was 75 degrees and sunny in New Hampshire. That supervisor was so far away from her desk that her comfy little chair pillow no longer bore the impression of her inefficient and illiterate butt anymore.

So Monday rolls around, and I start making calls. And I reach the supervisor's supervisor, who apologizes and asks me to resend the application, because it was, indeed, thrown out. This time I was able to email it, because, having been nearly a month now, they'd had time to fix the original pdf form.

Also, just to make this whole thing that much more FUN, in that month they had juuuuust slightly changed the requirements of the position. Now, instead of needing just a master's degree, I needed a master's plus one year of full-time experience after that master's. My heart is warm and fuzzy, and I will be smiling with bliss when I open fire, let me tell you. Because I do have more than a year of work experience, but it's after my master's degrees (degreeS) in criminal justice and in mental health counseling, not since the one in psychology. So now, suddenly, I don't quite meet the requirements of the position. BUT, she says, "Come in anyway, and take the exam for it and get the background check going. I think we'll be able to work around that."

So I arrange for my dad to watch Jacob and for Willem to come home early to pick up Emily. And I drive an hour to go take these exams and meet with the woman. Who, though she saw me beforehand, waiting in the lobby, didn't bother to notify me until AFTER all this insanely privacy-invading crap that, "Oh, sorry, I found out that we can't certify you for the position without that year experience. But maybe something else will come up, sometime. We'll keep your file."

Oh, I was livid. Livid, I tell you. Not that I didn't get the job - it's their party, and they can make up arbitrary, last-minute rules if they want to. I was livid at the rampant chain-jerking that went on. If I want someone to waste my time, I can go hang out at the DMV or head over to a preschool to teach physics. I don't need to drive an hour each way.

Though I did have to stop twice on the drive - once for a flock of deer and once for a huge turkey wandering in the road. This is all a little too rural for me. Though I feel that if New Hampshire is going to go through all the trouble and expense of putting up moose signs everywhere, then they are contractually obligated to show me a moose. I'm not moving until I see one.

Anyway. So I get home, and just to rub some salt in that wound, it turns out that Jacob had a horrible morning with my father, missing me and crying a lot. Fantastic. No reason that anyone should get through this untraumatized, right?

Gah.

So, I'm leaving tomorrow for Rochester - we decided to go after all. Parts of the trip will be fantastic, such as the times I'll be spending with Jessi and with the ladies from my message board who allow me to pretend I have a social life and can continue to avoid meeting people here. And parts will not, like the times I'm trying to make non-defensive small-talk with my mother-in-law (in an over-hyphenated sentence).

Oh, but I forgot to post. I've had proof that I'm a bad person. I'm moderately glad that someone died. Horrible, I know. But it's someone I met once in my life, at another funeral, and had no connection with. He's my mother-in-law's ex-brother-in-law, and he passed away a few days ago. I'm sad for his children, who will miss him... but I am happy that his daughter called my mother-in-law and asked her, as her (the daughter's) godmother, to attend the funeral on Tuesday morning. In Florida. So, I'll have a bit of a break in there.

I know, it's just confirmation of what we already knew, just one more step on my road to hell. Ah, well. I'll see some of you there... mmmmwwwwwaah.