I've chosen to flee many times. More times than I'd care to admit, actually. Yep, I'm a fona fide, natural born chicken! The most recent time I fled was from a job application. My friend over at the university's medical school had told me about an upcoming job and encouraged me to apply. I filled out and submitted the online job application, but weeks went by and I heard nothing. I knew that due to budget cuts, job openings were being scrutinized carefully and not all of them were being filled.
I began talking myself out of the job, and in doing so came up with lots of excuses. I figure I have about two years left before I retire; is it really worth it to learn a new job at this point? My mom's health is precarious; how can I take on a new job with the very real possibility of immediately needing to take time off? (This excuse would have come true; my mom is currently hospitalized and I've needed to take a number of days off.) And now for the real crux of the matter: I've already unsuccessfully interviewed for two other campus jobs and I honestly question my ability to both relate and appeal to the prevalent Southern Baptist culture on campus--i.e., maybe I was lucky to get the job I have. Could my morale and confidence really take the beating of a third rejection?
You guessed right--I withdrew my application. A week later, I heard from my disappointed friend that I had truly been "in the running" for the job and on the interview list. Two weeks later someone else had the job. I'm still not sold on it being the right thing for me to pursue in this time and space, but the fact remains that I fled.
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