I have decided to have a crack at the job. The one that’s been flitting in and out of view for the last year and a half. It’s a good opportunity, really. A chance to get into a ‘real world’ environment. There’s scope for some development work also, and I’d be working with the testing guy, so there’s an opportunity to get a look at that too.
I have a meeting with them tomorrow, to chat about pay and conditions. I am a little worried about it, because of the mortgage and silly things of that ilk, but I have to bite the bullet one day, and those days are getting fewer and further between.
Last night I sat down and figured out what I currently earn, and what I need to earn to make our house still work. It was an eye-opening time. I am fortunate that Mrs Gizo is so good at working. I know that if everything goes pear-shaped she will have no trouble getting work again and helping to pick up the slack.
But when I lay my head down to sleep last night I couldn’t close my eyes without a red shroud of fear passing over me. I’m not worried about the money – I’ve embraced the “we’ll get through” attitude – I’m actually worried about the work, about humiliating myself. I’ve met Paul, the testing guy who I will be working under, and he intimidates me a bit (most people do). He’s confident and loud and a character and a really nice guy. I am scared that he’ll be disappointed by me. Even though I’ve met the Big Boss Man and his two Underlings, and been very open with them all about what I do and do not know. I’ve done their knowledge tests on C# and MSSQL, so they have a good indication of who they’re hiring. And yet, there’s a part of me (the part that Mrs Gizo hates) that thinks they’ve made a bad decision, and that it’ll all come crashing down on me, and ruin me. I try so hard to silence it, but it’s always there. It’ll be fine once (if) I start, and get into it, but for now, if you feel a rumble in the ground it’s probably just me shaking in my boots.
I’ll do my best to be still and be strong.