Jon Stewart and Jill Clayburgh

In the middle of September I went in for my second interview, because Jill Clayburgh evidently liked me. This time I met Jon Stewart, complete with the worried rubbing of the forehead; in fact it was the rubbing of the forehead in conjunction with the worried look that led me to dub him Jon Stewart.

I could tell Jon was perplexed. Why did I want to work at the opera? Did I think it was going to be fun? What did I know about opera? At that point I would have told him pretty much anything to get a job. I told him that I was passionate if ignorant about opera, that I would do a great job, that I knew all about making travel arrangements, that I was accustomed to difficult personalities.

Profit

What would you do if you found out that you were hired as a result of a very qualified person being fired so that the director could hire his girlfriend? Doesn't the whole thing sound like scandalous fodder for a novel? HOw can I exploit this to my profitable advantage? That is what I need to do here.

I have learned some valuable lessons. Keep my mouth shut and observe. If somebody says something offensive, pretend as if I am surprised to know of the circumstance they refer to.

Self-monitoring

I question myself all the time: Am I annoying others with my

Cinderella is reminded of her humble position

I listen to Eckhart Tolle and I try to be humble. Nothing like being told that you will be filling in for the receptionist to fill one's humility quota. Really? Just fill in for the receptionist? You don't need any toilets cleaned, or any garbage cans emptied? C'mon, ugly stepsisters, don't be shy about putting me in a really lowly position. My karmic account isn't nearly balanced yet; I'm sure I still have much for which I need to atone.

I keep thinking there is a key I need to attain for success. If only I could be funnier, more confident, prettier, smarter, more ambitious, more energetic; I am missing an essential quality for success, and that lack is so frustrating. What am I good at? What could I do that would exploit any talents I might have and make me happy and more fulfilled than I feel?

Don't think I am happy about feeling this way. I don't want to feel outraged that I have been asked to do work I consider below me. I want to feel grateful I have a job. I don't want to feel this desolation of the soul. My life has been so tied up with work that when work is not fulfilling, I feel really sad. Oh fuck it. Who gives a shit about a stupid job. I just need to focus on being happy and being as professional as I can even if others don't perceive me as a professional.

Applying for the role

At the age of 48, with a Ph.D I am doing nothing with, I found myself unemployed, introspective, and self-punishing when I saw an ad for a position at the opera. It was an in-between position, not a clerk, but not a manager, just a job that I thought I could do given my combined skills. So I applied.
I live in a desirable state where many people are underemployed, not unlike Italy, which is the home of opera and itself a desirable place to live. The opera director expressed some puzzlement about my enthusiasm for the job I wanted. Why would I take the job with my qualifications? But, and this is rhetorical, but should be a serious question, what are my qualifications? Yes, I have a Ph.D. Yes, I have taught, managed people, done research, devised programs, and written a variety of documents. For what does that prepare me? Something, and I will come back to this, but I need to examine a personal drawback now.
I have not always been a good person, a kind person, a responsible person. Part of where I am right, playing Cinderella, is karmic wages. I haven't always been grateful, gracious, or sensitive to others. I have also been dishonest, deceitful, resistant to authority and lazy. With these personality deficits, I feel lucky I have landed somewhat on my feet.
What generated this need to write again was the announcement today by my boss that, in addition to my regular duties, I would be filling in for the receptionist on breaks and lunch. My first reaction, which I kept to myself, was, I HAVE A PH.D.!!!!! Why am I doing the kind of work I did when I was 17-fucking-years old?