In which I just checked my voice mail.

I have an interview tomorrow afternoon for a helpdesk position at a “medical facility” (probably a clinic, but maybe a hospital, I don’t know because an outsourced IT company is actually doing the hiring). The pay range is $10-$14 an hour, DOE, which is about right for Walla Walla. The two guys I’ve emailed with so far, though, seem like really great people.

The job posting suggested that people without degrees or certifications need not apply, but I applied anyway and they called me back because YOU DON’T GET COMPUTER SCIENCE DEGREES FOR TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR, not even with a high unemployment rate. Plus I also said I was studying for my CCNA, which is true in the sense that I looked at the books the other day, and false in the sense that I haven’t really studied in weeks because that shit is boring. I love networking, but they’ve somehow managed to jargonize and sterilize the material to such an extent that I can barely stay awake the length of a chapter.

It’s amazing. Really. Because I’ll read pretty much anything. I’ve read the back of my shampoo bottle at least two hundred times just because it’s there: THAT’S how boring the CCNA manual is.

But tomorrow’s helpdesk interview is not all that’s happening this week on the job front. Oh, no, it isn’t. A famous tea company also received an application from yours truly last week, and they’ve just called and left a voice mail asking if I can come in for an interview.

They’re in Tigard. Tigard, Oregon. Tigard, Oregon, the suburb of Portland. I haven’t called them back yet because my brain is broken. Sure, I could borrow my brother’s truck and zip over to PDX, crash the night at 80’s, and then pop over to Tigard and say hi to these lovely tea folks… but what if? What if what if what if? What if they actually hire me?

Li’l thought experiment here: could I actually manage a move to PDX? I don’t own a car, so I suppose I could just grab a Greyhound out there, crash with various friends, and take public transportation to work while looking for a roommate on the bulletin board at the local Whole Foods. I guess the dog could stay here with G’ma? (INSERT GUILT TRIP HERE OH GOD I LOVE YOU BINDU.) I could come back and get the rest of my shit later, once I make friends with people who have cars. Not that I have that much shit. Hell, I don’t even own dishes. Actually, I really don’t own enough shit to set up house. I have no furniture. No pots and pans. I’d probably need to rent a furnished room.

To take TriMet from, for example, 80’s house to the tea store in Tigard, though? SIXTY-SEVEN MINUTES, and it costs nearly five bucks. To be at work by 8, one would have to leave at 6:30, which means one would have to get up at… YE GODS. Early, yes, but not impossible.

I’d need enough money to survive until my first paycheck. I probably don’t have that, not since I’d be eating out and taking the bus for two to four weeks. Probably no way to borrow, either, since all my relatives are also broke.

So, um, yeah. It’s a definite maybe. Whatever that means.

Gawd. Should I call back? Or just pretend I never got the message? ARGH.