In early June, maybe even late May, I applied for a new job. One where the hours will be more manageable and one where my commute will drop from 90 minutes in each direction to a mere 15 minutes in each direction. Meaning, even if the hours aren't any better at the new place, I'd still get back more than 2 hours a day that I currently lose sitting on a fucking train.
So -- June/May whatever....I send in my resume. A couple weeks later, I get invited to an interview. It takes a couple more weeks to set that up but it eventually happens and it goes GREAT! They fucking LOVE me. So much so that they ask me on the spot to come in for a second interview.
The second interview, thanks to my shitty fucking work schedule, took over a month to set up but it too seemed to go really well. Left there on a high -- absolutely sure the job was mine. They told me a decision would be made soon, within a matter of days. And then...NOTHING. Not a word. Radio fucking silence.
I couldn't take it. Here I was, spending each day thinking, Is today the day I give my notice? Can I book that weekend for early October? I started thinking about what it would be like to have free time again. But after a week of nothing, I started to go a little nuts and so I make a call and I'm told "Oh yeah, so great to hear from you, we're gonna decide early next week, yada yada bullshit."
That was 10 days ago. TEN. MOTHERFUCKING. DAYS. And on each of those days the job seems less and less likely. And the plans for fall have to be canceled. And the misery that is my job starts to set back in. Sure, they haven't said no. But they haven't said yes either.
Everyone says no news is good news. But that's not particularly comforting when you're facing 18 hour days in the interim. Who cares if no news is good news if you go crazy before you can get the good news, right?