This week has been one I'd like to forget for a lot of reasons, the most prominent and obvious being the huge disappointment of a failed job interview. Not really a failure on all fronts; it allowed me to take a good long look at what I want out of my career, forced me to update my CV, helped me practice my interview skills. But after finding out that I didn't get the job, I was left to go through the stages of grief in a way that has certainly never happened for me in the workplace. There are a lot of factors playing into how I'm processing this and the two primary warring forces are my attempt to trust unconditionally in God's plan for me against my absolute disbelief in the outcome. Trust in God is winning out mentally, but the disbelief and anger has been winning out emotionally. That anger is tempered by the fact that I have the most amazing coworkers. If I'm stuck on evenings for the indefinite future, resigned to a lacking social life and lonely mornings, at least I know I'm stuck with an incredibly supportive bunch. They are my family, and they have made this week bearable. My real family has of course helped, empathizing with appropriate sadness and indignation. But it's my Children's family that has me believing it will all be ok.
So here's a toast: to HR nightmares, Irish Car Bombs, drunken sign language, breaking phones, getting heck-fire messed-up faced, ninja-stickering, and generally being rock stars at keeping the hospital running when the dark side goes home for the day. Thanks guys.