OA Date Selected. Angst and Tears

Last year I took the Oral Assessment late in October. In selecting that date, I thought it would give me extra time to study. But by August I felt ready and I was starting to worry about feeling overprepared. I even thought about writing to State and asking for an earlier date. I knew that my sense of readiness was in part due to the weather. I always feel bright and optimistic and strong in summer. So, I worried about taking the test in fall, when the sky would be gray and my energy correspondingly low. I worried about taking it after business travels. I worried about ... a lot of things.

In the end, everything I worried about came true. And I came away with the feeling that if I had the opportunity to take the OA again, I would do so in summer. I wouldn't give myself time to wear myself out worrying, time to fret, time to swing between being numb with dread or sick with terror.

Determined, compulsive, more committed (or crazy) than even I realized, I started the process all over again. Signed up for the written exam. Actually studied for it. Took it and walked out convinced I'd bombed it. Had the same feeling with the PNQs. Felt sick to my stomach when I hit the send button to submit them back in April. Realized that I was sick of feeling anxious. And once again, I promised myself that if I was blessed to receive another invitation to the OAs, I'd schedule it for sooner rather than later.

When I did receive that invite, my resolve hardened. I looked forward to a test date in July. Late July, of course, since the first date was to be July 21. Registration for the OA would open June 21. I would be one of the first one's at the website to sign up. Yup, that I would.

Then life happened.

My 93-year-old mother got sick and had to be hospitalized. I started spending four hours a day at her bedside. She was sweet and wonderful and incredibly fragile, and  I started wondering, "What in the world am I doing? I can't join the Foreign Service; I can't leave her."

Then I got a job that required working overnights. I learned that overnight shifts really do not agree with me and that sleep deprivation can seriously affect one's ability to concentrate -- and remember things.

Then our insurance started acting up. Refusing to pay for this. Or that. Or even that. (I mean, how petty can you be?) Then my insurance dropped both of my children. Decided that I earned too much money. Even though I'm unemployed. How, I asked, is that possible?

So I thought about the 13 Dimensions. Or tried to. I thought, "This should be good fodder for stories," or tried to. But sleep deprivation over an extended period of time can do amazingly bad things to one's ability to focus much less remember things. So I resorted to lists ... And forgot the lists!

Long story short, by the time the morning of June 21st arrived, I'd forgotten all about the OA -- OA scheduling, that is. Did I remember to mention that my daughter had come into town the day before for an out-of-town medical visit and I had to accompany her? So guess where my mind was ...

By the time, I remembered that it was OA Register Day, it was seven that evening. I knew that the dream of a July testing date was over. I could only hope for a late August one.

By the time, I was home and back online, by the time the site actually came up (it took forever), by the time I found that suddenly-asked-for/never-seen before candidate ID, and could log in to register, July was long gone. So was August and most of September. In fact, only September 29th and 30th were left.

I chose the 29th, then hesitated and went for the 30th. Mainly because I like the number 3. And  it was closer to the weekend, so I hoped it would be better for finding someone to watch my son.

I pulled the trigger. Closed the website. Stood back. And promptly burst into tears.

My July date was gone. I'd have to go through nearly three months of waiting. I didn't cry after not passing the OA last year. I was exhausted from days of business travel when I got to DC in the first place and starving the day I took the OA, so I think my emotional reserves were just about used up when the assessors gave me the news.

But last Monday, I cried. Cried hard. I think it was the first time I realized how much of a toll the first OA had taken on me. I cried, too, I think, because of everything. I cried because now I had months of worry ahead.

My very sensible daughter listened to me babble, then said, very reasonably, "I like the number three, too, Mama. And I think it's a good date. Furthermore, you have too much on your plate to take the test now. September 30th means you have time to take care of what's going on now, and time to study."

I paused, sniffled, and looked at her, "But I wanted a July date."

She just shook her head.

She was right. Of course, she was. And as the days pass, I've come to believe that God is taking better care of me than I am of myself. Between now and September 1st, I have a long list of matters to attend to:

My mother is now in rehabilitative care. She's decided not to return home, so I have to clear out her apartment, decide what to do with her things. My son is returning from two years abroad; I have to find a school and register him, or prepare to home school him for a year. My daughter has decided to have elective surgery. It would take place in late July, at the same time I wanted to take the OA and two weeks before my son is due home in early August. Meanwhile, I still visit my mom and try to take care of errands for her. Meanwhile, I'm still struggling with our respective insurance companies.

It's harder than ever to focus on studying for the OA, in part because of everything that's going on around me and in part because it seems so far away.

For a while, I thought about dropping out of the OA study group. I decided to do so, at least for the rest of this month. I was worried, too, about being part of a group wherein everyone had a July or August  date. It's hard seeing folks disappear while you become the hanger-on. But, by coincidence, many of the folks in my study group are taking the OA in September, too. So I'll be sticking with the group. Practice may not make me perfect, but it'll help. I hope that some of my most glaring weaknesses (of which there are several) will be strengthened. It's a wonderful group, too. Really mutually supportive folks.

Did I mention the upside to all of this? I got to register for Annex 44. It's in a much kinder area than Annex 1. So if the day inside is going badly, I'll be able to leave, get some fresh air, get re-energized. I intend to spend a full day in DC before the test, so I'm really rested. There are restaurants in the area where one can get an early morning breakfast (pre-6:30 a.m.), but I'll pack snacks just in case (grapes, granola bars, etc.)

Thinking about it, I realize that while dreading the OA, I'm also actually looking forward to it. It's  a rather fun day in an odd way. You get to spend hours with a bunch of really fantastic people. I know, everyone says that, so you might think it's folderol, but it's not. State has an incredible selection process and comes up with amazing, but unbelievably amazing folks. It's so much fun talking to them and hearing each person's story. And the exercises themselves -- simulating a task force, coming up with solutions to emergency scenarios on the spot -- are fun, too -- or would be if one didn't feel that an entire career is on the line.

Anyway, back to preparations. It's too early to pack for the OA, or even to set up a hotel reservation (I'm hoping for a last minute discount), but it is the perfect time to buy a ticket to get there. So that's what I'm going to do now.

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The Foreign Service: Choosing the Right Cone

Did I mention that when I signed up this time, it was for the consular cone? The last time (first time) I registered, it was for public diplomacy. (Hence, all the PD links at the top of this blog.)

Why the change?

Well, the thing is, I didn't sign up for PD because it was my one-and-only. Oh, I really wanted to work with cultural and educational exchanges -- and still do -- but I was torn because I was already burned out with the journalism part. Confronted with the requirement to choose something, I chose PD simply because it was familiar ... and I thought it made the most sense considering my professional training and background.

In other words, I chose it because of my past.

Months later, as I traveled further and further along the path to actually becoming an FSO -- and a public diplomacy officer -- I became aware of a heaviness of heart, even a sadness. Finally, I admitted to myself that I had made my choice based on calculation, not on intuition -- most importantly, not on what I wanted, or feel called, to do.

While sitting in one of my study groups last summer, listening to people talk about their chosen cone and their life experiences, I realized that I wasn't being true to myself. What I wanted, what I had wanted all along, was to do consular work -- to help American families living overseas.

Now, by this time, I was well aware of a, shall we say, attitude among some, who look down on consular work. The real foreign policy work, some feel, is done by managers, economics officers, and public diplomacy officers. Who would want a career stamping passports, listening to sob stories, getting Americans out of trouble that they "no business getting themselves into?"

I would.

Why? It seemed like one of the most grinding, thankless jobs a person could ask for. But there it was: my dream job.

Again, why?

Well, the 15 years I spent overseas certainly had a lot to do with it.

I know what it's like to try to find doctors and lawyers, dentists and pediatricians overseas. I know what it's like to go to a U.S. Consulate and need help. I know the relief of being welcomed by someone who is knowledgeable and helpful and patient and kind -- and the frustration of being confronted by the opposite.

And I know I can be effective in the job.

At my last OA, when the gentleman first told me that I hadn't received the needed score for my candidacy to continue, I actually felt a sense of relief. It was faint, but it was there. I had felt uneasy about my application to be a public diplomacy officer. Oh, I'm sure I'd do an excellent job of it -- (indeed, I have a history of excelling at jobs I'm uneasy with, a point of determination, I suppose) -- but it wasn't where my heart was. So while I was disappointed, I wasn't heartbroken. I had to wonder whether my reluctance vis-a-vis PD work had affected my performance that day.

Everything's different now. I want to do consular work. One of my favorite blogs is Muttering Behind the Hard Line. It's honest and refreshing and it's by someone who actually loves this most trying job. Unfortunately, the author writes that he's signing off, hopefully not forever, as he moves on to other enterprises. In the meantime, he leaves behind a marvelous blog, one that's funny, informative and touching.

This time, when I go to DC for the Oral Assessment, it will be with a whole heart. Of all the things I would hope to do differently, the greatest change has already occurred. I'm very happy with my chosen cone.

(Reviewing this entry, it occurs to me that maybe I should back up and explain what I'm referring to by cones. "Cones" is just another word for career track in the Foreign Service. There are five: management, economic, political, public diplomacy and consular.* Each has very specific duties, and every applicant to the Foreign Service must choose a track when first registering for the FSOT. The Foreign Service helps you with this choice by providing an online personality exam. Based upon your answers to questions about your preferences, the website will produce a tailored chart, showing which track you might find most enjoyable and/or appropriate. That being said, last time I checked, there was also guidance about the competitiveness of each given track. For more information, check the Foreign Service website. You can also find a great informal guide at the Hegemonist.)

*Corrected as per Ado's kind remember.

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Yay! I Got My OA Invite Today!

Well, I guess the title says it all, doesn't it? I'm so thrilled. I actually saw an email invitation to join a local study group before I downloaded the letter from the ACT website. I tried to take it as a good sign! Here's how the letter begins ...

Congratulations! Based on a comprehensive review of your candidate file, you have been selected to participate in the next step of the Foreign Service Officer selection process, the Oral Assessment.

Yippee, I am one happy camper! On June 21, I'll be one of those folks at the ACT website, trying to sign on for a July date. I've already figured out which range of days I'll be aiming for.

It feels great to be back in the game again. Swell ...

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