You know, I've heard a lot of nasty things about headhunters in the eight or so years since I was first approached by one.
Speaking to Sheila and her delightful south-Indian accent (I have a weakness for that accent, I'm sorry) today and I'm feeling insanely better about this workhunt terror that my brain has been clasped in.
I need to speak to someone like that every few days whenever my resolve lags or my deeply hidden insecurities decide that THEY WANT ATTENTION RIGHT NOW.
Not only did she rave on and on about my WONDERFUl experience and how my references just about sang at the mention of my name, but she sat and explained a lot of what the wise Mr. Pyke has been saying in the moments when I muster up enough courage to admit my fears to him.
"Just you wait, young lady. You're going to be beating them off with a stick".
I love it when people talk like Steven. ;)
So it looks like I'm in the right price bracket, and it looks like the things I've been passionate about are still worthwhile in the eyes of this recession and it looks like on top of all that
I have my first Toronto-side interview at the General Hospital on Wednesday.
With a man who used exclamation marks when he said "See you then!" which for some reason put sunshine right back onto the plate of franks and beans that Mr. Pyke had so bravely prepared for lunch despite my trying-to-get-used-to-the-idea faces.
I'm going to go get my haircut now, and maybe dye it a lovely shade of anythingbutblonde. Or maybe just darker. Or something. Anything. Just so long as it makes a difference to my own eyes, making the best of a terribly shallow trick that I learned from a beautiful young lady a bare handful of years ago.
The boost to the confidence that something as silly as a slight change to the way my face reflects back my own light can give...
Might just be enough for me to get through this without killing anyone or hurting them either.
Contact from a headhunter, my first interview, and great big frank'n'bean kisses
Today has been a bold leap forward.