My best friend got offered a job by my dream company. I don't have the heart to tell her a sincere congratulations, but I also don't want to look like the jealous best friend that I am.
So, instead, I've decided to ramble about it in my business blog. Well, I suppose this is supposed to be a record of my "journey" to gainful employment. Though, honestly, given my response rate so far, I might be better off joining an escort service. (I'm kidding. Kind of. Mostly.) But it is supposed to also be a place where I can share thoughts.
I have been trying to compose myself given this information. In this moment, in this nanosecond, I hate her more than I've ever hated anyone in my entire life. And that's not a feeling I usually feel. Normally, I feel...well, exasperated and affection for this girl. I think the biggest takeaway from this is that we cannot talk about our careers. I don't like feeling like I hate her; I feel guilty and ashamed of myself. I shouldn't begrudge her the successes that she's worked hard for. But, at the same time, I can't help myself from feeling this way, which in turn makes me feel worse.
Mostly, though, I think my heart is still broken from being told by my Dream Company that...that I wasn't good enough, that somehow all the effort and work and trial and everything that I had put into making nice with networking contacts and trying to learn more just...didn't matter. That I didn't matter. That's hard to hear, especially when all I wanted was a godforsaken foot in the door. One phone interview, one face-to-face, and I'm sure I could have wowed them. But I didn't even get that.
So hearing that my bestie, who is a liberal arts major Out West at a Much Better Name School than my Large State School, got the offer for the job that I so desperately wanted is causing me to tailspin again into this ridiculous depression that I've been trying to fight off quietly. Maybe I need to talk to someone, a stranger that I don't know who will listen quietly while I rant and ramble and sob and sputter.
I wonder, sometimes: what if I had made different decisions? Part of me wishes I had. Part of me wishes I had sought counsel more early on in my college career. Most of me wishes I could get a redo, at least in this moment.
