A few weeks ago, I was in Europe (well, I was also in Europe again last week, but that’s a whole other story). I had a job interview lasting two hours in London which necessitated me going there for the day from Brussels by train. That was an exhausting day.
Soon after, I was asked if I could delay my flight home to Canada and come back to London for a second interview. I did just that, taking a train in from Paris for another two hours of interview, staying overnight, and then taking the train back to Paris the next morning to catch my flight. That was a really exhausting day.
I was really hopeful about the job, they seemed very interested and it fit both my qualifications and personal interests very well. It would have been a fascinating job in a great city with good pay in a major, respected multinational company. I kept my fingers crossed, and yet the hardened cynic in me held on tenaciously, warning the rest of me against getting too optimistic.
It seems my cynicism took the day on that one. I won’t be going to London for that job after all. Back to square one on that front.
Deciding I needed to spend some quality time with my girlfriend while I still had the money and energy, I went back to Belgium last week to be a good person and caring companion. It was a very nice and relaxing week, despite being informed that I didn’t get the London job in the midst of it. I didn’t let it get me down, I have a lot going for me and I’m motivated to pursue a fulfilling career in my field.
Upon my return to Canada the other day, however, the border agents decided they wanted to spend some quality time with me and dampen a bit of that positive energy. Apparently, visiting a girlfriend in Europe while ‘unemployed’ (c’mon, I just finished my Masters barely two months ago, and I haven’t even officially graduated yet) allows one the opportunity to be ‘interviewed’ for an hour, have all one’s bags thoroughly searched, get frisked against a wall and be thoroughly intimidated. It’s kind of scary how a few people in uniform can so easily crush your dignity for no reason you are aware of. If there’s a law against being well-traveled, no one told me about it.
I got my marks, and I passed with distinction, something I should be (and am) quite proud of. So there you have it, I now have a Masters degree from the London School of Economics. And yet at 25, I find myself nearly broke and back in the old family home. Oh well, the Dandy Warhols are in town next weekend and I can, at least, still afford a ticket to that.