You know what makes finding a job even more difficult? Moving. A lot.
I grew up relocating with my parents because of my dad’s job. Being flexible with your willingness to move really gives you an edge when climbing the corporate ladder, so when I was 12 we went from Florida to South Carolina. Cut to four years from then, and we found ourselves in North Carolina. I transplanted myself to Clemson later on, and my parents found themselves briefly in Kentucky before heading back down to Florida.
After graduation, I merrily skipped to the DC metro area in order to learn that the real work world is not filled with rainbows and butterflies or wonderful people handing out jobs to young women who love books and PR. You may ask why I didn’t go to New York. Well, my now husband had the benefit of already possessing a job, having graduated two years before me with a practical degree. Oh, and I was a broke 21-year-old. Full-time unpaid internships do not equal roof or food, and I am not living in an uplifting, against-all-odds romcom.
About six months ago, my husband’s company relocated us to Atlanta. Being from the south I was fine with this, and we were very excited. After settling in, I began the renewed job search. I even made some valuable connections via randomly reaching out to strangers among other things. Hey, you have to start somewhere. With some stuff in the works, I would’ve ended up taking a not-book-job temporarily while continuing to grow my network. I was in the middle of negotiations, but then my husband got a phone call. A competing company made him an offer we couldn’t refuse with one stipulation: relocate back to the DC metro.
Needless to say, I felt like hiding in this box forever.
Currently, I work remotely for a company doing quality assurance editing, and this allows me the freedom to move around (obviously). This sounds like a dream situation, right? Working from home, commuting to the couch/kitchen table every morning, and editing work are all elements that should add up to the perfect job for me. Well… it’s a 1099 position… with hourly pay. Don’t mistake this for ungratefulness or whining, but have you EVER had to deal with paying your own taxes?? I don’t make enough as it is, and then I have to scrimp, save, plan and send the government lots of money. I am having a panic attack just thinking about it. (A huge thanks to that lovely husband of mine for dealing with our taxes this year, albeit on Valentine’s Day.)
Looks like I am back to square one.