I went back to the carer job interview today (with my amazing smelling hair) and after another two hour chat, had a moment of clarity when I realized that this was not going to be the job for me. I really wanted to want it, but I just didn't, so although they offered me the job, I did not accept it.
I was doing OK until she said I would have to work early (7:00 am) and late shifts (till 10:00 pm) and I would have to work Saturday and Sunday every other weekend or one day every weekend and that the pay was only minimum wage, not even living wage. I'm sure people in care are probably thinking yeah, what did you expect? But I have had control over when I wanted to work for so many years now that it freaked me out a little. In my first interview I was asked what days I was available so I assumed incorrectly that I could tell them what days I wanted to work and then they would allocate shifts for me on those days only. I also incorrectly assumed that it would be a similar pay rate to other care jobs advertised and I followed advice not to discuss pay at an interview unless they offered me the job. So the first time I went there I didn't even ask about the pay. Two small pieces of information that would have saved me 4 hours of my time and their time, saved me two hours of driving and all the endless hours of thinking about whether or not I wanted to officially apply.
I sat there and had a rush of thoughts about how I could earn more working in a coffee shop without the risk of someone dying on my shift. I could earn more in a supermarket or as a cleaner where I could listen to audio books while I cleaned luxurious houses, I could earn more being a post woman or a warehouse packer and that's what made me figure out that actually being a carer was not something I have ever wanted to be (aside from being a mum which I guess does involved caring). It doesn't show up on my list of 101 dream careers (courtesy of my Kristina Karlsson book). It doesn't feature anywhere on the list of dream jobs I would do if money was not an object and although I can see why it's a rewarding job, I'm not even sure it would be rewarding for me and the thought that if I stay long enough, all my clients WILL die, started depressing me. In a moment of clarity I realised that if I had to choose between a carer job or a coffee shop, I would take coffee shop any day. I think people deserve carer's who feel called to the profession, not people who are grasping at mid-life career crisis straws, so I said no.
I got home feeling completely exhausted for some reason. So I made a positive decision to sign up for a writing mentorship monthly membership. It's not a huge investment and I enjoy writing so I figure it will be worth it and I'm sure I'll learn a lot. Now I'm back to square one but feeling like a clarity queen. This Karen does not want to be a carer.
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