A Second Hit

Early in June I wrote about my indecision concerning a unique internship opportunity that had presented itself. The position sounded incredible, and involved tracking and handling some pretty cool wild predators. But it the end I couldn't justify the expense I would have incurred moving to the location and supporting myself, unpaid, for six months.

It's been nearly two months since then, and I've just now received another potential job opportunity. I had a phone interview this afternoon regarding a job for which I applied in mid-June. The position begins at the end of August and runs through the early summer next year. So far it seems as if the job has just about everything I need-- a lot of field experience, the possibility to learn some new field techniques, work with species that don't completely bore me, and money. Yes, the position is paid. Not a lot of money, but housing is provided, and between provided housing/utilities and a monthly stipend, I can make do.

I also made it a point during my interview to ask some additional, very-important-to-me-but-potentially-off-putting-to-the-interviewers questions concerning time off and pets in provided housing. First, I've made the decision that the single best way for me to get accepted to grad school next year is to really make sure I'm on potential advisers' radars. And the only single, surefire way to do so is to visit schools and meet professors in person. So sometime this fall I'm going to make a trip to visit as many schools on my list as I can possibly afford. The interviewers' response? We can probably work something out.

Good.

Now, for question number two: pets in provided housing. I always feel weird telling people I have pet rats. It creeps a lot of people out. Most people don't realize what fantastic pets they make, and a lot of people have squeamish, giant, slimy, sewer monster images pop into their heads when they hear the word 'rat.' But for me, the rats are almost a deal-breaker. They bring me a lot of happiness, and I would feel terrible having to re-home them at this point. For them and whoever ended up having to care for them. And me. I'd feel bad for me, too, because I really love the little guys. The interviewers' response? We'd have to check with the property owner, but they'd probably be okay.

Also good.

What about the housing itself? A rented house in a very, very, very small town. I'm talking small. As in, "smaller than Newcastle, WY" small. But chances are I'd have my own bedroom, so that's good, because, honestly, I really dislike sharing.

The negative aspects? Well, aside from the tiny community, it seems there might be a hunting-friendly culture firmly in place, and I vehemently despise hunting. I'd also be doing some live-trapping to put VHF radio telemetry collars on study animals, and I was asked during my interview if I'd be willing to kill an animal should something go awry during capture. The thought literally makes me sick at my stomach, but I suppose I wouldn't have any other choice, would I? That bothered me, as did several questions posed about my attitudes towards hunting and whether or not I enjoyed hunting myself.

I gave honest answers to all their questions, so I suppose my opinions on hunting, if anything, may make the hiring personnel look less favorably upon my candidacy. They also posed a couple strange, "What would you do if..." scenarios to which I was unsure how to respond. One example was on the order of, "What would you do if you were working with another technician without a supervisor present and you disagreed on whether or not to perform a certain task?"

Er..... Okay. Um....? Yeah, I see how that could happen, but really? How do I answer that? "I punch the other technician in the face and do whatever I want." Or, perhaps, "We do whatever I say we should because I clearly would have better sense." Or maybe there were looking for, "We yell and scream at each other until one of us is driven to tears, relents to what the other says we should do, and then hug it out later on."

?????

Anyway, it was an interesting interview, and not entirely what I was expecting. I'm feeling a little ambivalent about the whole thing, but I suppose I should feel reassured by the fact that it's paid work and I'll likely get to bring the rats along. My biggest concerns now are, aside from the hunting, whether I could really do such intense, tedious fieldwork for an entire year without going crazy at the lack of variety, and the fact that the position is in Northeastern State.

Northeastern State, by the way, happens to be very, very far from here. As in days and days-worth of driving far from here. As in very expensive plane ticket far from here. As in, leave from here and probably not come back until Christmas unless I'm really lucky at Thanksgiving, far from here.

It's a little strange, because had I been accepted to graduate school, I'd likely have been getting ready to move somewhere very far from here, and not for a year, but for five or more, with similar stipulations about returning to visit home. But somehow this feels different. Perhaps because I didn't choose the location, and it's not ideal.

Or maybe I've just become too comfortable with my current state of affairs-- my living situation, the familiarity of my hometown and all the amenities it provides, my job on the ranch, the proximity of family and certain friends, the enjoyment of my new-found equestrian hobbies. Maybe I've become content enough with the here and now to make the thought of moving somewhere very far from here, to a location, job, and impending year filled with uncertainties and insecurity, seem a daunting task.

Hey, though, who knows? I might not even be offered the position. Regardless, though, I think I may just need to start mentally preparing myself for a radical change.