The choice that isn't a choice...

Greetings, everybody! I’m back after a one-week hiatus. I didn’t have time to write last weekend because I was a leader at the Chicago Cares Serve-a-Thon all days Saturday, and I also spent a good chunk of Sunday recovering from it. It was awesome, but it wore me out.

The poster frame debacle went on for a while longer and got even more ridiculous, but I did eventually get a refund. I ordered a different frame from a different company yesterday, so we’ll see if this one goes any better. I also bought two other pieces of Chicago art at the Wells Street Art Fair last weekend: one monograph of the skyline and one drawing of the el in the loop. They are both significantly smaller than the poster, so I didn’t expect a big problem with the frames. However, I did find out quickly that neither of them are standard sizes. Earlier today, though, I found the right size frames at Joann’s, and even got them for 50% off, so all is well. I put the art in the frames and they look nice. I just need to stop at Home Depot on the way home later and buy some picture-hanging hooks.

But anyway, on to today’s topic….

I seem to be, once again, at a fork in the road. Most of you know that I am a textbook editor at a university, and that for the most part, I love my job. Right now I’m the lead editor on an advanced algebra book intended for about 10^th grade, and I’ve had the opportunity to help with important curricular decisions, write activities and problems, research application contexts, and more. They sent me to my first conference in April. And most importantly, they make me feel much more valued and appreciated than any other job ever has. I’m doing something that I’m really good at, that I’m well trained for, and that is honestly fun and exciting for me. I adore my job.

However, the one of perils of working in textbook development, rather than textbook publishing, is that the project is grant funded and therefore has and end date. I knew when I accepted the job that the money would run out and my job would cease to exist no later than July 2009.

I have absolutely no regrets about taking the job. But now that the end of the project is barely a year away, I do have to start thinking about what I’m going to do next. So imagine my surprise and excitement when someone from the same university called me last week to ask if I’d like to be involved in another project that has an end date of 2013.

If I chose to go work for them, I’d be working on books from the same series as I work on right now, but at the elementary level rather than secondary. When I met with them, they said I would probably be staffed on fifth and sixth grade books, which is a good thing since by background is much stronger in secondary math than elementary math. I’d still be involved in the development of the books, so I’d be able to do the same kinds of things my current job has allowed me to do, not just italicize variable and add commas like I did when I worked in commercial publishing. And what’s more, during our meeting, the directors of this project told me that I could transition over to them at any point I wanted – at the end of the summer when my book is finished, or even in a year when the entire project is over.

It seems like a no-brainer, right? It seemed that way to me, too, at first. How can I even consider this a choice? Not only is this opportunity as close as I’m going to get to staying at my current job (which, again, I love), but there is no other alternative! No other alternative, that is, besides sending our dozens of resumes, going on dozens of interviews (if I’m lucky enough to get them), constantly worrying I’m going to run out of money before I get a job and end up staying on someone’s couch again, and so on and so on.

So why on EARTH am I hesitating? Loathe as I am to admit it, at the back of my mind is a tiny voice saying, “if you applied elsewhere, you could make more money.” Which is probably true. If I take this new grant position, I will probably continue making roughly what I make now. If I went back to working in commercial publishing, I would probably make $5 more an hour just to start. And that could lead to a dramatic change in lifestyle.

I’m not saying that I don’t like my life now. I do. But the truth is that I struggle with money sometimes. A lot of the time. And as I watch my friends who work in big business buy condos and clothes shop without hesitation, I do wonder if selling my soul to a corporate enterprise would be worth it.

I feel guilty even writing that, and I know deep down in my soul that will take the new job at the university and be happy for it. Because I’m getting by just fine. I’ve found ways to have a good time on a budget, and some of the things I’ve had to cut back on (like eating out) are better for me anyway.

But when I do take the job, I have to admit I’ll need some time to mourn the things I could have had if I was content to do nothing but italicize variables and add commas for the next 20 years. To help you understand where I’m coming from, and perhaps make you giggle a time or two, I’m going to write a wish list of the things I am giving up by doing something I really love to do.

1. An apartment with more than one room. I live in a studio apartment right now with about 300 square feet of living space. Honestly, most of the time I don’t mind, because I really don’t own enough furniture or anything else that will fill more than 300 square feet. But sometimes I can’t help but think to myself, “crimeny, can I get a friggin bedroom?” While I have plenty of space for me and my cat, the thought of inviting anyone over is out of the question. It’s physically impossible for more than two people to see my 14-inch TV at the same time unless 3 people know each other well enough to all sit on my 2-person love seat. How many pairs of people do you know that you’d be comfortable sitting hip-to-hip with for a 2-hour movie? I think I’ve made my point.

2. A kitchen with counters. This sort of goes along with #1, but not necessarily, because some one-bedroom apartments have kitchens smaller than mine. But the kitchen in my apartment consists of a sink, mini range, and refrigerator right next to each other, and about 2 feet of counter space on the other side of the sink. Half of that is taken up by my dish drainer (no, silly, I do not have a dishwasher), and the other half by a cutting board. Which means I have absolutely no counter space for anything else. I’ve often had to mix things while the bowl was on the stove, which is complicated when one of the burners is on, and even when the burners are off, because the range has a pilot light. Again, I’ve found ways to get around it, and nine days out of ten I am reheating leftovers rather than cooking anyway. But it’d be really nice to have some counter space. I mean, occasionally I’ve had to adjust cooking times on my crock pot because it’s been sitting on the stove all day and I know the pilot light will have hurried the cooking along. Go ahead and say it. That’s just sad.

3. Purchases that I can forget about. I’m not asking to not have to think about hundred-dollar clothing purchases or thousand-dollar vacations, but there was a time when I didn’t have to save the receipt from my $5 frozen yogurt purchase or my $10 movie ticket. Now, every cent I spend goes into a spreadsheet to make sure I don’t overspend my monthly income. I start forgetting small purchases, and they will add up and get me into big trouble. The really ironic thing is, the time when I didn’t have to worry about that was while I was in college. Now, I have a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, and a job, and yet money is tighter. Kind of counterintuitive, eh? But it makes me realize how lucky I was to have a full-ride scholarship back then.

You know, I’m surprised, but those are the only three things I can think of. Those are the things I wish I had that I know I can only get by giving up a job I know I will really love to do something I know I won’t love.

I know this probably seems like a big pity party and complaint fest to anyone reading this. But thanks for reading anyway. Because you know what I’ve learned by writing this?

It’s totally and completely going to be worth it to take that job.