This morning I was supposed to go swimming with another spouse (in fact, the only one I know who also doesn’t work and doesn’t have children). I sent her a text message to confirm that we would meet at 10 a.m. in the lobby, and she called me to tell me she couldn’t make it because she was offered a job.
(Just a note that as spouses, we can’t work in the private sector here in China, we can only work at the same place our husbands work because of visa restrictions. As you can imagine, there are lots of spouses competing for the very few (menial) jobs available.)
This particular job was advertised when D and I first arrived and I didn’t apply because it’s so beneath my skill level that it’s laughable. Literally, just filing papers and answering phones. I figured (stupidly) that something better would come along. So, the job was given to someone and that someone recently quit because she’s pregnant (what a surprise!) and so they gave the job to my swimming buddy because I guess she was second on the list (she had applied for it way back when).
The thing is, I don’t want the stupid job because that’s what it is; a stupid job. And yet, this morning when I found out I got so angry that I stomped around the house yelling. Just ranting and raving.
And then I curled up on the sofa and cried for a good hour. Poor puppy didn’t know what was going on so he curled himself around my head and licked the tears off my face.
I wasn’t crying about the job, but about the fact that I’ve been reduced to this person who gets upset about not getting a job I didn’t want in the first place. This person who has to go around begging for little contracts here and there; contacts that are ALL beneath my skill level. Contracts that serve nothing in the long term except keeping my hands busy for a couple days.
As I was rocking back and forth on the sofa, I kept repeating, “This can’t be my life, this can’t be my life.”
It’s the first time that I’ve actually broken down like that since being here.
As D was leaving he asked, “Well, have you contacted the Australians or the Brits? They might have contracts available. You’re not even putting yourself out there.” This was really not the most tactful thing to say given my delicate state. I don’t WANT to have to put myself out there over and over again, only to get passed over a million times before I get a shot at a crappy job that does nothing to enhance my CV or further my skills when I HAVE A PERFECTLY GREAT JOB BACK HOME. And to have to do this OVER and OVER again for the next 20 years.
My self-esteem is delicate enough as it is, and the thought of job-hunting again and again just destroys what little confidence I have in my abilities.
I’m going swimming alone. Maybe some physical activity will clear my head a little.