“My Story… ” Monday: The Job “Search”


So there I was, this young woman who’d been married less than a year, drove a brand new GMC Envoy, had a lovely condo, AND a good job– ¬†and we had up and decided to move someplace totally unknown.


That’s the gist of it, in case you’ve missed any of the story.


Up until this point, I think my bosses and coworkers largely thought I was just dreamin’ and fantasizing. Sort of playing a “what if… ?” game in my mind. Sure, they knew I thought I’d found a great town. Yes, they knew I had sniffled through a warm, balmy Christmas. But I don’t think they really took me all that seriously.


And then I showed up in my customer service manager’s office and asked, “What do you suppose are the odds that I could get a job in the Hampton Roads region?”


“Hampton Roads?” she asked. “Is that a different company?”


“No,” I shook my head, “that’s the region of the bank that encompasses southeast Virginia and the Outer Banks of North Carolina.”


She smiled and raised a brow at me.


She loved me. I was good at my job and she and I shared a weakness for both hard rock and romance mysteries. Though she had two sons and I was just a newlywed, we got on splendidly. Though I’m quite certain she thought I was a total nutjob at this point, she humored me.


“Well, how about I call and find out?”


Now, this is where this story, by today’s economy’s standards, takes an almost unbelievable turn. But, remember, it was the very beginning of 2002. Things were shaky in that we were all recovering from 9-11, but jobs weren’t the rare commodity they have since become.


I went back to work and let my manager do her thing. Only about fifteen minutes went by when she showed up behind me.


“I spoke to their regional service manager. I told her I have an incredible teller manager who, for some reason, wants to transfer to her neck of the woods. She wants to talk to you. She’ll call you at 3:00 PM this afternoon, okay?”


And that was that.


When I spoke to the regional office, I was told that they were excited to have me– they weren’t really sure where exactly they’d put me, but they knew they’d have a job for me. I should feel confident making the move, because they were confident they’d find a good fit for me.




It is truly amazing to me to look back on this time in my life and realize how both confident and trusting I was. As far as I was concerned, I was all set!


Within a couple days, my husband, a banker, had been told the same thing– he should rest secure, knowing they’d find a place for him. Where, they had no idea. But they’d find a spot.




We’d decided to move.


We’d picked a date.


We’d chosen a town.


We’d “secured” jobs.


But we still had to sell our condo.


And who knew how long THAT was going to take? . . .


The rest of this story can be found here:

Part 1: Itchy Feet

Part 2: Looking Northward

Part 3: Picking a Town

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