I’m sorry that this post has to be all in past tense. I was just so emotionally all over the place that I couldnt bring myself to post it at the time (even though I jotted down the draft). I need to post it though, because it is a turning point in my life in France, and explains all that is to come. So here it is, warts and all.
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Things were not looking so good workwise in March. After being completely screwed over by Big French Bank (names not mentioned to protect the guilty), I then spent 3 soul-destroying days in London pimping myself around to all the recruitment agencies, where I was again told “Not a Chance – No Aussies Considered – Get Back on Your Ship to the Colony, Criminal“. Add that to a particularly cold and long lasting winter, and my spirits really were at an all time low.
Yes, there were more and more ads for jobs in France that seemed suitable for me. Yes, my French was improving to the point that I could probably just scrape through as “fluent”. But the rejection emails (or no response at all) came in as quickly as the jobs did.
The only real possibility, seemed to be an opportunity to work for my old employer, in their London office (an opportunity discovered thanks to the powers of wine! I’d organised drinks with my old work colleagues and, voila!, a job opportunity raised it’s head).
One day not long after, when I was explaining to M about the job ads that I’d seen that day, and all the “non” emails I’d received, he just stopped me suddenly and said “You know what, this is doing your head in. Yes, there might be more jobs coming in but you, emotionally, cant keep going much longer. Why dont you just draw a line under the jobs that you are currently working on, stop looking for more, and if none of them work out, then we just take the London job?”.
This suggestion was a relief, a reassurance, but also, a path that I didn’t want to follow. I did not want to admit defeat. I did not want the dream to end.
I kept the basic list of job opportunities, but I kept looking, just in case.
I found one job that looked perfect, but required someone with fluent French. The headhunter ended the interview quickly once she realised what my level was, and we thought it was dead, but she called back the following day to say that her client was really interested, and could she take more details.
This, is the one. This is the job that is going to allow me to keep the dream alive.
The day of the interview, everyone sent me text messages wishing me well, telling me that I was going to kill the interview etc. I was so appreciative of the support and encouragement, but it just increased my level of nervousness an extra few decibels. And those extra decibels can kill a cool calm and collected vibe at an interview.
M was rattled as well. His family had been ringing in the morning asking how it went – but of course, the interview was in the afternoon. A whole day of stewing.
It also brought home to me that this really was a deciding moment in my future in France. My own personal D Day. And I just really didnt want to think about that.
I just needed to get through the interview in the most fabulously spectacular “you would be crazy not to hire me” way.
I was fabulous.
The interview was a disaster.
I wont bore you with details, but lets just put this into a short paragraph: My interviewer, one of the principals, arrived back into the office late, forgot that he had an interview with me, couldnt find my CV (despite the headhunters sending over a full file on me), he hadn’t read my CV, didn’t know who I was, typed away on his laptop as I was speaking, didn’t ask any relevant questions, told me that they didn’t even know what they wanted from the role and that if he was me, he would just take the London job.
I rang M straight after interview. He said: “It’s dead”.
So I managed to hold back tears until I got home. M took me in his arms and let me have a big ol’ cry.
In fact, I think the hug was for his benefit as well. This has been an amazingly challenging situation for him as well. Who would voluntarily choose to have a relationship with someone who doesnt have the right to work in their country? The emotional drama is SUCH a stress on the relationship. And he’s had to completely re-think his life and his future because of me. And now it’s likely that we will have to move country.
People called through the evening, sent texts to ask how the interview went. M didn’t feel like talking about it, so just said “We don’t know yet”. I was a little more resolved, and explained the whole disaster to those who asked.
I’ve had this big weight of frustration and continued disappointment sitting on my shoulders and heart, particularly for the last 6 months. And now to have this one more boulder placed on top….
Lets just say it wasnt a particularly jovial evening.
What I suspect is that they actually have already found someone, but that person is a foreigner like me, who needs to be sponsored. To be sponsored, they need to prove that they cant find anyone else in France or the EU to do the job, and hiring a recruitment firm to send through “dummy” interviewees is just what has to be done.
I dont know. Maybe that’s not the case. I guess I’ll never know.
The morning after I got up and got back onto pushing the London job forward – testing, formal job offer, salary, benefits etc. It’s a great offer and a good job. Hopefully it will all go well and I’ll get a formal offer (although, it’s pretty sure).
And we will come back to live in Paris one day.
I have good feelings about London and still feel positive that I will be able to “live the dream” in Paris again in the future. I guess I just need some time to grieve for this first dream lost.