Last Sunday, I found a listing for my almost dream job (I say almost because, as we all know, my real dream is National Geographic, and it might be safe to assume that that dream is still several decades away). After a disheartening experience with job searching, I had taken a brief hiatus from scouring various web sites for potential employment. Then, on a museum-love-induced whim, I went searching again, not really expecting to find much, only to find a listing for the job that would make everything in my life awesome.
So, of course, I applied, feeling fully confident that I had found a job that would not only make me happy, but would be a perfect blend of all my skills and interests. Since then, I’ve devolved into a semi-manic state every time I hear my phone ring, or every time I get an email. Is it them? Do they want to set up an interview?
Case in point: going to class on Monday afternoon. Like most of my classmates, I put my phone on vibrate when I’m in class, and should I get any calls while class is in session, I wait until our ten minute break to check them. This past Monday, as I was speaking to the class about one of my potential stories, I hear my phone vibrating from across the room. Once back at my desk, I glance at my call log and subsequently have my hear skip a beat–it was a 310 phone number and they left a message!
Who but my potential employer would call from a Los Angeles-area number and leave a voicemail? Who else but our termite inspector lady calling to schedule an extermination appointment. Womp womp womp 
After the ten minute break, back to class as usual, I get another call. Could it be? It was another 310 phone number and it was different from the first number! Still, there was something familiar about the last four digits of the phone number. Once class ended, I checked my voicemail en route to my car. And wouldn’t you know? It was someone calling with a job offer. But! It still wasn’t dream job. It was the very same people with whom I interviewed over a month ago!
Still fuzzy on the circumstances, it would seem that they are now offering me a job that had been denied to me not that long ago. Gripped with confusion, I didn’t know what steps to take forward, and I had no idea what to feel other than some mild flattery. Should I take it? But what if I take it and my dream job calls me? What if I don’t take it and my dream job never calls me? Should I take it anyway and just keep hope alive that dream job will call me eventually?
Yes, I took it. Some money is better than no money. It’s not my dream job, by a far stretch. But it’s something I can do. It’s a job. On a 1-to-100 scale of perfection, this situation is at about a 75. Employment is hard to come by, so I can’t really start being too picky right now. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be a little pleased with the way things turned out.
So what does all this have to do with a picture of Rice A Roni? Case in point: last night’s dinner. Committed to our new low-calorie dining (which has prompted me to lose about three pounds and Nick to lose ten), we opted for a Balsamic-marinated chicken with mushroom and onion Roasted Garlic Italian whole grain rice. Now, if you must know anything about me as an eater, know this: cheese is my worst enemy.
No, it has nothing to do with being lactose intolerant, although that does factor in from time to time. No, this is a life-long struggle with food, and people’s crazy idea that putting cheese on things will make it better. Cheese tastes like old feet. Period.
Through meticulous prodding and training, I’ve come to tolerate only two kinds of cheeses: mozzarella and pepper Jack. Everything else? Please get out of my face. So! As I was preparing the rice (as Nick is the meat cooker in our house), I happened to catch a faint whiff of cheese as I opened the bag of seasoning. My cheese-identifying nose is rarely wrong, so I consulted the box to double check. Yes, there it was: parmesan!
A few weeks ago, Nick brought home a parmesan-crusted chicken. The sauce we made for it was delicious, but my cheese-hating mouth eventually forced me to scrape off most of the crust in order to be able to eat the chicken. Fearing the same would happen with this rice, I went for a Plan B (which basically just involved me cooking a lot of green beans so I could have at least some kind of side dish).
As it turns out, the cheesiness was mostly in the smell. Yes, there was still a hint of a cheese in the rice, but thanks to the joyous flavor blends that come out of sautéing mushrooms, garlic, and onions together, most of the cheese ended up fading into the background. I’d say that meal was 75% perfect.
One month ago, I would have been thrilled to have landed my current job. Now, I’m somewhat pleased, but still hopeful for better. Cheese-tainted rice isn’t the end of the world, but thanks to some fancy veggie additions, it was just a little more tolerable.
I’m still here, dream job! And non-cheese rice? I’m still here, too.
Tags: Cheese, Cooking, Employment, Food, Jobs, Massiel, Nicholas
