I spilled no food on myself, and presciently prevented blisters on my feet by pre-emptively wrapping my toes with Band-Aids. I made it to the campus with no flight delays and no traffic issues. I thought I comported myself fairly well. It felt good to practice my job talk, to see what it was like to meet with potential colleagues, and to learn the etiquette of breaking bread with search-committee members. I had a campus interview in December that seemed to go well, but, alas, I got no offer out of it. The problem, I think, is that I’m still not sure that I’ve learned all of the rules. Even if I’m befuddled by the job market, I’ve still agreed to abide by the rules of the game. I’ve defended my dissertation, and so I’ve unofficially transformed myself from Eunice Williams, Ph.D.
To some extent I’ve ensured my place in this life by acceding to the terms of academe. The academic job market is an exercise in captivity, and I am still its prisoner.
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