Finding
Myself
The word
“loser” had been skittering through my panicked brain. I had
been job hunting for two years without luck and I was desperate.
Career aptitude tests suggested hairstyling so I went to beauty
school.
I was
terrified on that first day of school but I was also hopeful.
Throughout the year each teacher assured my classmates and me that we
were on the road to greatness. We were constantly regaled with tales
of graduates who had gone on to fame and fortune.
Like my
classmates, I worked hard for my promised success. Every time I did
something well I felt a rush of pride. That feeling intensified when
I graduated, with honors, and when I passed my licensing exams with
high scores. I went out ready for the future.
The
first places I applied to were nice salons with advanced training
programs and high pay. I had three interviews, out of more than
thirty applications. All my classmates had similar jobs but no one
wanted me.
After
months of being rejected I started applying at the cheap salons.
They seemed about as eager to hire me as the high end salons and I
was ready cede defeat when I got a call back. It was a three hour
bus ride and it only paid minimum wage, but they wanted me.
The
first day of work was like that first day of school, full of hope and
fear as I familiarized myself with my station and my duties. The
salon was slow, hardly any customers walked in. The people who did
come requested specific stylists and I was left with no one in my
chair and no one who had time to train me. I filled the long hours
with busy work and I watched my fellow employees. The few times I
had a customer were horrible. Cuts I had done well in school turned
into horrible hack jobs when I tried them at work. If I felt that I
had done a good job I would be told the next day that the customer
had come back unhappy. Work had become a nightmare. I had been
working for a month and a half when I decided I couldn't do it
anymore. I quit.
Suddenly
I could breathe again. There was some guilt over giving up but the
feeling of freedom was so much stronger.
There
were a couple of interviews after I quit but no call backs. I
started to fear getting hired as much as I feared not having a job.
I had even missed an interview because I had spent the night before
lying awake, heart pounding, until the sun rose and my sheets were
soaked with sweat. It was a relief when the interviews stopped
coming.
A year
after my graduation I was left wondering, “What now?” What was
it that I really wanted to do? The “loser” word threatened to
come out again so I made a decision to go to college. That first day
of school was filled with hope and fear but I knew that this time, it
would be different.
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