I was volunteering at Open Harvest, as I had a hundred times before. Okay, so maybe it was really closer to a dozen. But I felt like an old timer there. And yet...

I wanted to do more. I wanted to be more. Pressed by the earlier ruminations of my subconscious mind, I was ready to act, I was willing to risk losing the comfort of sameness, and I was prepared to sacrifice the appearance of altruism.

The plan was simple. I would approach the hiring manager, and ask if there were any positions open. If she said there were, I would convey my intent to apply. If she said there were not, I would request an application anyway, and say truthfully that I'm fine where I am right now, but if a position opens later, I'd like to be considered. Either way, my intent would be clear. No more skulking around and second guessing my own priorities.

On my way in, I saw the sign advertising a stocker position, but I also noted that the deadline to apply was yesterday. I figured that this could either portend good news or bad news. Good news if the deadline wasn't a hard one; maybe a decision had not yet been made, and I could use my inside connections to slip in despite being past the deadline. Bad news if the position had already been filled.

It just so happened that on this day, I had the luck to be working directly with the person in charge of hiring. Here was my opportunity. While we were putting one of the display cases together, I casually asked if there were any positions open for employment. (Feeling utterly silly doing so; after all, we were already comrades in a sense.)

She said there was a part time stocker position open, but a hiring decision would need to be made very soon. She described the hours. 16 hours a week. Not enough that I could quit my current job without making my financial situation extremely tight. Too tight, even for me. But maybe I could work both jobs for a while.

The open position would involve being there two days a week when the shipments come in. Every Monday from 16:00-midnight, and Thursday from 16:00-midnight or 6am-14:00, alternating weeks. If I could get Monday nights removed from my gas station schedule (very likely), I could swing it, since I'm already not working there on Thursdays. Definitely. It would also involve getting up ridiculously early in the morning every other Thursday. But I could do that. This would be workable.

I told her I wanted to apply.

She said the cashiers up front have applications, and I could get one from them.

I said I would.

In the minutes that followed, I stood there thinking to myself, "What the hell did I just do?" Financially, there is no reason for me to be needing two jobs. I like the way things are. I like coming in to volunteer. Was I in the process of making a giant mistake, screwing up a good thing? What if those hours turned out to be unbearable? What if it turned Open Harvest into a place I would want to escape from, rather than enjoy? I had been ready to switch from one job to another, but both at once? Would it be too much for me?

I spent the rest of my volunteer shift in a sort of daze, though it was quite a productive daze. I spoke to no one else about what had transpired, or what I was thinking. I wondered if I should go back and tell her to just forget it, go ahead and hire someone else. But I didn't want to do that, because there was still a strong voice in the back of my mind telling me I was on the right path.

So when my shift was over, after removing my ceremonial green apron for the day, I went up to the front and asked one of the cashiers for an application. Again, I felt quite silly doing so, as these were people I had worked alongside on several previous occassions. It was as if I was revealing that I had been a phony all along; I hadn't been volunteering out of a giving spirit, it had all been an act to get my foot in the door. Or at least that's what it seemed like I was implicitly admitting.

They handed me the printed piece of paper without saying anything. I took it.

When I had walked into the store three hours earlier, I was in good spirits. But now, I felt lower than ever inside. I stuffed the application away in my pack, went about my grocery shopping (making sure to grab some comfort food that could be consumed immediately), and mindlessly made my way through the checkout. (The cashier at the front either sensed my morose mood, or saw me as the phony I imagined he thought I was, for our exchange lacked even the bare minimal friendly banter that usually accompanied the weekly transaction.)

I went outside, took my stuff over near the bike rack, and just sat for a minute. I tasted my apple cider, breathed in the beautiful afternoon air, looked up at the sky, ate a few nuts, and tried to reconnect with my center. This was absurd. I knew that. But now the question loomed before me. What was I going to do?

I looked over the application. I hate job applications. The same way I hate resumés. I think I have some sort of irrational anxiety related to the entire employment process. I hate all the dumb blanks to fill in, and questions to which only corny, trivial answers can be written. ("What are your interests and civic activities?")

I put the application away, and continued to sit. I could just forget the whole thing. If I didn't turn in an application, L would probably figure I had lost interest, and proceed to hire someone else. (During our conversation, she had smiled and indicated that I would have "a bit of an advantage" since they already know me.)

I didn't want to just ride away without a clear resolution. Thus, I had reached to a sort of partial decision. I was going to either fill this thing out and turn it in, or I was going to go back inside and tell her that I had changed my mind. One or the other.

As I continued to consider, my spirits slowly lifted. The afternoon was beautiful. I had a backpack full of good healthy tasty food. There would be a nice potluck to look forward to in the evening. And deep down, I knew that no matter what I did here, or how it turned out, the people I had gotten to know at Open Harvest would not think less of me.

Thus it was that I realized that the worst possible thing that could come out of getting a job at Open Harvest would be that I might lose the opportunity to volunteer there!

Fuck that! Right then and there, I had my answer. I am NOT going to stop volunteering here. Even if they hire me, I'll still come in for 3 unclocked hours a week, and do what I've always done. (Or something new if needed, like giving out samples to people.)

I set my mind to filling out the application. I realized that I had no pen. I thought about going back into the Open Harvest back room to see if I could find a pen to borrow, but that just seemed tacky, in some totally irrational and indescribable way.

So I walked across the street to Walgreens, purchased a small package of pens, and returned. Fuck it. I'm filling out this application to the best of my ability right here and now. If the fact that I'm not going home to spend hours polishing my answers ain't good enough, so be it.

I walked into the BP station on the corner (owned by the same Lincoln company as the one where I work) to ask if they could give me the phone number of my station. Having obtained that information, I realized the application didn't even ask for phone numbers of former or present employers. How strange.

I scribbled out answers to all the questions. (Included in my list of interests and activities, "Volunteering at Open Harvest, and I don't intend to stop whether I get this job or not". I drew a smiley face, but it was the honest truth.)

Having completed the application, I returned to the store and saw L working in one of the aisles. I approached and asked if she wanted me to leave it on her desk. She responded in the affirmative. I went up to the office and left it in the appropriate place.

As I was leaving the store, she walked up to me and said, "I want you to know I really do want to hire you. But 16 hours a week is really all I have right now because earlier today, I just hired somebody else for an open stocker position that had 24 hours a week." (Between the lines, it was as if she was saying, I would have hired you for that one instead if only I had known.)

I couldn't blame her, nor was there really anything to blame for. In fact, I was glad for her honesty. (And yeah, the backhanded compliment didn't hurt either.)

She said she would either call me later in the week for a phone interview, or we could have the interview next Wednesday after my volunteer shift. (I'm wondering what sorts of questions to expect. Since she's already said on more than one occassion that she wants to hire me, it might end up being the easiest interview ever. OTOH, I wouldn't put it past her to be mischievous and throw some curve ball stumpers in there. If I were her, I'd ask, "Why should we even pay you anything, since you've already demonstrated that you're so eager to come in here that you'll work for nothing?")

Every trace of self-doubt had evaporated. I rode away knowing I had gone the way that was right for me.

Potluck tonight was delicous; a great variety of main course dishes, along with a few desserts. The final newcomer meeting was good too. I think I'll go back to the church next Wednesday night to attend a course on the Bhagavad Gita. (Whether or not there will be a potluck to accompany it is still undetermined, but I'm sure I'll find out by Sunday.)

Even though I haven't actually been hired at Open Harvest yet, I'm contemplating whether to go ahead and ask the boss to give my Monday night shift to someone else. (I don't think he'll have too much trouble filling it, as the silly story-telling newcomer has been wanting more hours anyway.)

As I rode home from the meeting, I kept asking myself: How do I know my decision today was right? I could answer that my intuition tells me so. I could say it's a direction I've been wanting to go for months; all the real thinking had been done in advance, today was finally just letting the spirit take over and guide me into motion.

The truth is that I want to direct more of my energies into organizations like Open Harvest and other operations that seek to bring goodness and harmony to the world. What more can I add to describe my motivations?

Ran advises us to coldly sever our love from income. It's a sentiment I can understand and identify with. I know that when I entered the software profession, I lost a large chunk of my enthusiasm for programming as a hobby.

But there's also the side of me that says, "If you can get by on doing something that brings fulfillment and harmony -- a task in accord with life's mission that just also happens to provide some income -- isn't that worth pursuing?"

I'm stumbling along as much as anyone. Right now, I like where I'm stumbling.

Now I'll quit babbling, step back from all this, and release. Today was a good day to live.