Wed 7th Jan 2008

I finally heard word from my prospective employers. They called to inform me of their resignation, from the position of being my prospective employers. In other words, I didn't get the job I'd applied for in Liverpool.

After 3 interviews (2 formal and 1 informal), my antiquated handset finally informed me I'd come 2nd place. And in case you are sneering cynically, please let me assure you, I DEFINITELY DID come 2nd place.

You might expect this news to have dealt me a blow of disappointment. If so, I appreciate how this may sound like an attempt of self-preserving petulance in the face of rejection - but it really kind of didn't.

Over the last week or so, as the new job became an increasingly real prospect, I was developing more and more doubts about whether it would be the right move for me - in either a geographical, or career sense. And to be honest, decision-making is really not my forte (which interestingly, is a trait I continually neglect to mention whenever I update my CV).

So much so, that the last few days really have been weighed down in desperate provarication, trying to subjectively assess the pros and cons of my career move, but actually going round in circles, never making any real progress towards a final decision.

In fact, had I been offered the job, I'm convinced that prior to reaching any affirmative conclusions of its acceptance or rejection, I'd have ended up breaking down; howling at the mental torture of it all, tearing my pubic hair out with own my bare hands in sheer, self-loathing, indecisive frustration.

And most stupidly of all, I'd have no-one to blame for this mental anguish but myself. It's not like I was ever forced at gunpoint to apply for this position (that would be ridiculous, as everyone knows this sort of 'employment prospect' only ever happens in Manchester).

So yes, it was a genuine relief when this dilemma was taken out of my hands. I really feel a strange sense of gratitude for having been let off some sort of self-imposed hook. My prospects are no longer my responsibility!

Which, rather depressingly, would appear to be just the way I like it.

Given what I have concluded about myself, should I be celebrating, or tearfully punching the wall?

Funnily enough, I can't decide.