Lighting a fire under my *ss
I've been a little lackadaisical about the assignments process lately. There are jobs out there -- possibly even decent ones -- that I'd have a shot at but haven't been pursuing.
Perhaps because of my ambivalence about my career and my sometimes-wish that something would force me into a different path, I've developed a sort of...Seinfeldian....attitude. As in, UN specialist good; UN specialist for "youth issues" (as the UN defines them), meh; maritime analyst good; maritime analyst for Pacific Island development, bad (I will not become an accidental expert in Tuvalu, I just won't; I suspect I know all too well where that inexorably leads). These are, of course, wholly fictitious assignments. I say that because I note that we've picked up some readers tagged with my employer's IP address, and I have no idea what their intentions are. (The "email me" button is to your right, folks.)
Today, next year's batch of Iraq/Afghanistan vacancies were published. Readers, without revealing any details, let me just say this: there are 112 of them. Actually, that number is completely fictitious (see above). The real number is even higher.
Thus, much as I hate to miss what will undoubtedly be an urgent, we'll-take-any-warm-body vacancy notice in October for Genoa, I find myself motivated to cast a reappraising eye over thedregs opportunities that remain on the list.
There are two reasonably appealing spots for which I'm still under active consideration: the classic hard choice between right-locale-wrong-job and wrong-locale-right-job. Though, because this is a crummy season to be looking for an onward, it's more like a choice between fairly-good-locale-probably-iffy-job, and tolerable-locale-also-iffy-job-but-one-more-likely
-to-lead-to-better-prospects-if-I-were-staying-in-for-the-long-haul.
Which, most assuredly, I'm not.
Both these options have promised me a final decision by Friday. Getting one would be nice. Getting both would be an indulgence (and not a fun decision). And getting neither? Honestly, with every possible domain of my life in flux, I feel as though I'm coming up against my ceiling for ambiguity tolerance. Let's just say: I intend to have an assignment by next Monday, even if it starts me down a path that ends with a hermitage of a thatched hut on a disappearing atoll; certainly, I have days, lately, when I feel like that's where my life is heading anyhow.
Perhaps because of my ambivalence about my career and my sometimes-wish that something would force me into a different path, I've developed a sort of...Seinfeldian....attitude. As in, UN specialist good; UN specialist for "youth issues" (as the UN defines them), meh; maritime analyst good; maritime analyst for Pacific Island development, bad (I will not become an accidental expert in Tuvalu, I just won't; I suspect I know all too well where that inexorably leads). These are, of course, wholly fictitious assignments. I say that because I note that we've picked up some readers tagged with my employer's IP address, and I have no idea what their intentions are. (The "email me" button is to your right, folks.)
Today, next year's batch of Iraq/Afghanistan vacancies were published. Readers, without revealing any details, let me just say this: there are 112 of them. Actually, that number is completely fictitious (see above). The real number is even higher.
Thus, much as I hate to miss what will undoubtedly be an urgent, we'll-take-any-warm-body vacancy notice in October for Genoa, I find myself motivated to cast a reappraising eye over the
There are two reasonably appealing spots for which I'm still under active consideration: the classic hard choice between right-locale-wrong-job and wrong-locale-right-job. Though, because this is a crummy season to be looking for an onward, it's more like a choice between fairly-good-locale-probably-iffy-job, and tolerable-locale-also-iffy-job-but-one-more-likely
-to-lead-to-better-prospects-if-I-were-staying-in-for-the-long-haul.
Which, most assuredly, I'm not.
Both these options have promised me a final decision by Friday. Getting one would be nice. Getting both would be an indulgence (and not a fun decision). And getting neither? Honestly, with every possible domain of my life in flux, I feel as though I'm coming up against my ceiling for ambiguity tolerance. Let's just say: I intend to have an assignment by next Monday, even if it starts me down a path that ends with a hermitage of a thatched hut on a disappearing atoll; certainly, I have days, lately, when I feel like that's where my life is heading anyhow.
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