When Yes Means No…

If you know me at all, you know I’m a big fan of consent-culture, and I like to talk about it… a lot. I really never tire. I can defend enthusiastic consent until the person listening to me would rather help clean up after Pirate Party than listen to the rest of my lecture. I can explain why no means no, maybe means no, I-don’t-know means no, and silence means no. There are even times when I’ve adequately explained how a yes can mean no. This week I discovered another way a yes can mean no.

However, in this context, I’m not talking about consent-culture. I’m talking about job offers. Because this week I said yes to an amazing job offer, but that meant saying no to every other company I applied to.

Since October, I have applied to 21 jobs and internships. (And I’ve unofficially contacted recruiters and sent resumes to at least 5 others!) I’ve heard back from 8. I’ve been denied from 4 without interviews. I’ve been denied from 1 after the first interview. One company interviewed me, but I haven’t heard from them since, and the other requested an interview an hour after I accepted my job for the summer.

After 6 months of searching, I’ve received 1 offer.

As I debated this offer the what-ifs continually came to mind. I kept thinking, I love this job but what-if a better option comes along? But then what-if I turn this down and don’t receive another offer? What-if I haven’t done enough research and these companies aren’t a good fit for me? What-if I take this job, and I’m not any good?

Saying yes to this company meant saying no to any other opportunity… Including the interview request that came an hour after my acceptance.

But I can only say what-if so many times. Eventually, I have to make a choice and I have to trust myself. So, I said yes to the company that gave me an offer, and I politely declined an interview with the other company. No more what-ifs, I’m all in. I can’t wonder what would happen if I waited. I can’t speculate about where that interview would have led. And the best part is, after a day or two of processing, I don’t want to.

I know I took this job because it’s exactly what I want to do. I get to be an Operations Intern at a tech company and develop and improve company processes as well as manage and create resources for the employees. I get to live and work in San Francisco. Lastly, the parts that will never cease to amaze me are that they created this position specifically for me AND they are going to pay me. I can hardly believe that I got the internship that I was told didn’t exist.

Home sweet home as of May 18th!

Home sweet home as of May 18th!

Needless to say, I have no reason to go through any what-ifs. My yes to this company means no to the 14 companies who didn’t get back to me in time. I guess that’s their loss… But I officially can’t wait for summer and I’m so glad 6 months of hard work led me to this opportunity.

Checking My Feminism

I’m pretty confident with my feminism. Yes, sometimes I have to check my privilege or need reminders to think critically, but all in all, I trust myself to always take a third-wave-feminist perspective.

Well, last week I failed at that. Luckily I had my amazing 17-year-old cousin visiting to keep me in check.

Last Friday, at the end of an interview with the CEO of a company I’d be OVERJOYED to have the opportunity to work at, I was told I’d be receiving a job offer the following week. I could barely keep my voice steady as I responded, “I look forward to hearing from you!” (The squeaking with excitement didn’t happen until I had fully quit Skype… Just in case…)

However, after the initial shock and excitement, I started to worry and question things, as I tend to do.

My concerns stemmed from the fact that my boyfriend works at this company. I already cringe when anyone tries to imply that I’m moving to the Bay just to be with him. So, in my head all I could think was, “What is it going to look like if we work for the same company? Will it look like I don’t have my own life? Will it look like I’m afraid to get out on my own? Will it look like I need a partner in everything I do?”

This is when my cousin’s voice of feminist reason brought me out of this downward spiral of concerns,

“AnnE. Isn’t it just as bad to not take a job you want
just because your boyfriend is there?” 

She let that sink in for a minute then said,

“Why don’t you just do what you want? Do what’s best for you?
And don’t take him into account either way?”

sOh. Right. That’s the kind of feminist I am. As soon as she said that, I was back. Being a feminist doesn’t mean avoiding and trying to dissociate with men, it means doing what’s best for me and only taking those factors into account. And it NEVER means worrying about “what other people think” or “what something will look like to others.” It’s easy to forget that sometimes, which is one of many reasons I love my feminist friends who keep me in check. My cousin’s voice of reason was echoed by other friends later that night. No one said, “Oh, but isn’t that where your boyfriend works?” Everyone was excited for me. The judgment I anticipated was only in my head.

So for the third time this semester, I learned what it means to be a Scrippsie and a feminist. We don’t do what others expect. We don’t do something just for a boyfriend. (And for that matter, we don’t NOT do something because of a boyfriend.)

We do what we want.

And I want this job.