Well, I finally
got a job offer! I logged into my gmail a few days ago, and there was an email confirming one of the jobs I had interviewed for shortly before leaving for Austin was mine for the taking if I wanted it.
It wasn't the dream Te Papa job
, but was something that paid twice as much for half as many hours work, and had me working at the heart of the New Zealand Government. I was going to be dealing directly with the Prime Minister and her Cabinet, helping, no doubt, to guide the very course of the New Zealand's future. Or something.
It also meant an end to blogging, as the interviewers had made it clear that while they appreciated my written skills, they didn't want them used for anything other than keeping the Cabinet fully informed on current issues. This point was reaffirmed in the emailed offer of employment.
So, as I lay there in bed, my laptop propped up on my lap (of all places), my leg brushing the smooth and warm skin of Bertel, my recently made Scandanavian
friend, I contemplated my options.
On the one hand, I've got an excellent job lined up, my career is potentially back on track, and I might be able to start making some inroads into the insane credit card debt I've racked up over the last couple of months. I'd also be back in New Zealand to witness the inaugural live performance of Bizgirl: the Play
, at Artemis's school.
On the other hand, there's the lovely Bertel, a bass-player I met at a gig last week, and who has just offered to take me on a road trip down the 'Blues Highway', through the American Bible Belt, then up to Chicago (or New York, plans are vague at this point), where his band are potentially recording their first major label album. Bertel was playing at SXSW
, but isn't required by the band until rehearsals and pre-production starts in April (or May), so he's spending his generous stipend by hiring a big American convertible, and is driving out of town this weekend
in time to make the Easter Sunday service at Al Green's Church
in Memphis. Like I say, we've struck it off quite well, so he's invited me along for the trip.
Life, eh? Any guesses on what I've decided to do?
As the dearly departed Selwyn Toogood
might well have asked...
"What's it to be, Geraldine? The money or the bag