Force Majeure: A Referendum on the Assholes Who Wouldn’t Hire Me

Get out into nature whenever things follow Murphy’s Law. Eagle County, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Conventional wisdom says I should dust myself off, pull myself up by my bootstraps, and keep trying. But I just received yet another job rejection, and I have had it with being silent so potential employers won’t be perturbed by my angst. Frankly, I couldn’t care less if one of them reads this. After more than 1,000 applications, rejections, and outright instances of being ignored, I have a few things to say. I also know a few things about myself. I am neither conventional nor particularly wise, and I don’t think I have ever owned a pair of bootstraps. What I do have is a lifetime of surviving setbacks and finding another way forward.

The most absurd part of this is that I applied for the job. I saw that they called me. I blew it off. They called me again and invited me to an interview. I interviewed. They called me back for a second interview. And they didn’t hire me. I got a cute little email from their state HR office telling me that I was not selected, thanking me for my time, and telling me that  I could look at their website for more jobs. 

Not so different from: I know your hamster died. But you could go back to the pet store and try to get another one.

So what can I do today?

Go hiking.

Hiking has always been one of the healthiest ways I have worked through life’s challenges. It has also been a through line in my life, carrying me across Colorado and, eventually, across parts of the world.

Of course, sometimes life takes over and delivers Force Majeure at its finest, as it did in Force Majeure Strikes Again.

Yesterday

Get yourself on a trail. Any trail. Breathe. Your perspective will change. Cerro Summit, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Yesterday, Paul and I hiked Cerro Summit off Highway 50 as we headed east toward Gunnison, “Gunny,” or “Gunrack,” as it is sometimes known around here. I was blissfully unaware that, after two interviews, I would again be told someone else was a better fit. Maybe I don’t fit, maybe I am capable, and smart and able and for whatever reason, and maybe the Universe is saying, WRITE. OK, I am writing. 

This is not just about writing for me. Yes, I have had a lot of challenges in my life, but having never lived anyone else’s life, I really have nothing to compare it with. I have also had an incredible amount of joy and positivity, and I am a very happy woman. I have my best friend and the love of my life. I have wonderful friends and an amazing son with whom I have a great relationship. Yes, our family has survived a lot, and we are still here, still living and, dare I say, even thriving. Because thriving is, in fact, a choice. Thinking back to yesterday got me thinking about a lot of other hikes we have done. Those hikes did just what today’s hike will do: keep me stable, level-headed, and still moving in the right direction. Whatever you have going on in your life, you do have that choice. 

Today

Here is a weather station in bad weather. Perspective changes really work. Bring on the rain, the sunshine, the graupel, whatever you’ve got! Life has a way of sorting itself out. Cerro Summit Today. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Now we hike the simple trails around Cerro Summit, just off Highway 50 east of Montrose. They may not be fourteeners or trails through Portugal, but they are where I am now. They are still taking me forward.

Hiking has been a through line in my life, but it has also been an act of defiance. Every time life has tried to flatten me, I have put one foot in front of the other and kept moving. Sometimes the trail led up a mountain. Sometimes it crossed an ocean. Sometimes it simply helped me find my way through another difficult day.

“It’s not going to rain,” mused Paul. “The sun will come out any minute.” He was half right. The sun did come out, but true to hiking in Colorado in mid-September, we got a blast of sunshine, then a prolonged rain shower, followed by graupel and lots of mud. We splashed our way down the hill and back to the car. The leather seat in the back is now covered with mud. Thanks, Gibby. But I will say that it worked. The hike changed my perspective. One more dumb job I didn’t get. Their loss.

Summit County

Buffalo Mountain as the Sun Sets in Dillon, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

There is a road above Highway 6 in Dillon. It is to the east, and just above the highway. Paul calls it the “Trash Road,” because you can get to the dump that way if you wanted to. Or the shooting range, but for us it was a great dog walking trail. I first moved into the basement of a house in Dillon Valley, and later Paul moved in. The first thing we ever did together was hike that road. In those days it was us, Cheyenne and Trailer. 

Another trail I used to take the dogs on was up around Buffalo Mountain. I remember Trailer disappearing and then reappearing with a deer leg in her mouth. I also took the dogs hiking around Lake Dillon a few times so they could get a swim. But one day Trailer decided to grab a fish out of a bag a fisherman had on the shore, and shook the fish to pieces. We were no longer welcome.  But some of the happiest times in my life were spent hiking, running, and finding myself on trails. I remember returning to Summit County after being gone for years, and the very first thing I did was go hiking up on Buffalo Mountain. I have spent many hours in that neck of the woods getting in shape, taking my mind off challenging things, and soaking in the mountain air.

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Lake County

Gibby is telling us he wants us to throw the ball. Twin Lakes, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

I lived in Leadville twice in my life. And both times, I found myself hiking. Half Moon Bay, Windsor Lake, trails off Hagerman Pass, Timberline Lake Trail near Turquoise Lake. When Paul and I first moved to Leadville, it was Trailer, Cheyenne, Paul, and me. Later, it might have been me with the Labs, or Cheyenne, Gibby, and the Colonel, the ornery Shiba Inu. Cheyenne would disappear and reappear later, Gibby stuck around, and the Colonel just wanted to get back to the couch. The trails in and around Leadville were less crowded and, more often than not, calm and quiet. I will remember those trails fondly, partly because I spent so much time there and partly because they were fantastic places to take our parade of dogs.

Boulder County

View of Boulder Reservoir in the Distance, from Mt. Sanitas Trail in Boulder, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

I have hiked all over Boulder County, but sticking mostly to my formula of Paul, Gibby, and me, we have hiked Mount Sanitas, Sunshine Canyon, Chautauqua and Rabbit Mountain, just northeast of Boulder. One route through Sunshine Canyon is a hike Brian calls “Paul’s Walk.” Over the years, I have ridden horses, hiked, run, and otherwise spent a lot of time on trails in Boulder. In fact, I find that I am probably happiest on a trail. Hiking has a way of shifting your perspective. Being on beautiful trails in Boulder, looking out over the city, has a way of making me realize that life, beauty, joy, and wonder are so much bigger than any problem I may be experiencing.

Paul and Gibby, starting the hike up Mt. Sanitas. Boulder, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg.

Paul lived in and around Boulder for 20 years. I grew up there starting in the 1970s and went to elementary school, junior high, high school and my freshman year of college, all in Boulder. I vividly remember hiking in Eldorado Canyon with my parents and little sister when my Dad shouted, “RUN!” A giant boulder was cracking its way down the valley wall toward the valley floor. We all scrambled up to the road in a hurry. I don’t remember where my brother was that day, but I do remember narrowly escaping a boulder. So adventure is also on the list when it comes to hiking. Safety third, as Paul says. 

I frequently reminisce about Boulder, as I did in my recent article, Coming Home and Folsom Field: A Day Steeped in Fall Memories.

Eagle County

Nolan Lake, a truly beautiful spot. Eagle County, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

What an interesting time in our lives. We moved to Eagle County full of promise but experienced several challenges. I will not discuss them here, but I will say that yes, hiking happened. We hiked through a beautiful valley above Avon on Buck Creek Trail. It was filled with aspens turning yellow. We also found our way to Nolan Lake Trail, out beyond Sylvan Lake State Park. This is a stunning area in Eagle County, one worth checking out. Nolan Lake Trail was particularly beautiful that summer, in July 2022, I believe. After our gorgeous flower- and mushroom-filled hike, we found the little town of Fulford, an insanely small town that looks as though it could easily get snowed in during a big snow year. As I remember it, Fulford is decorated with snowmobiles.

The Algarve

Seven Hanging Valley Trail, Carvoeiro, Algarve. Photo by Wendy Stieg

I did promise the world, so I will give you the Seven Hanging Valleys Trail, which runs along the coast near Carvoeiro, Portugal. The town of Carvoeiro is magical. The trail is even more so. Paul and I did a hot hike from one end of the trail to the other. We hiked past the famous Benagil Cave, but you couldn’t see it from the trail. We hiked the whole trail and then walked through Algarve neighborhoods to get back to the car. Then it was back to Monte Gordo, where we ended up staying.

I would highly recommend that hike to anyone in or around Carvoeiro because it offers a stunning look at that part of the Algarve, and hiking is the best way to experience it properly. I later took a boat tour to Benagil Cave, and that was stunning too. But the hike gives you better exercise, is quieter, and is a great way to spend half a day.

If you want to see Benagil Cave from the water, you can compare Benagil Cave boat tours through Klook.

Montezuma County

Canyons of the Ancients, Montezuma County, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

We have spent a lot of time hiking in Montezuma County because we both lived there and also vacationed there before moving there. We have hiked Boggy Draw above Dolores and a swampy trail just outside Mancos, but we probably spent the most time in Canyons of the Ancients. As in Montrose, you have to pick the right time of day because the heat can become unbearable from late morning through the afternoon. But in the spring, fall, and winter, Canyons of the Ancients was a great place for the three of us to take a morning hike. 

One thing I came away with after living in Cortez was a better understanding of how enormous the Ancestral Puebloan world actually was. It stretched from Utah through Colorado, across New Mexico and into Arizona, making it more of a region than something contained within a single state. The Four Corners region more accurately describes what I am talking about. Paul and I did not get to Canyon de Chelly or Mesa Verde while we lived there, although I visited Mesa Verde many years ago as a child. Having lived there as an adult, I came away with a much greater appreciation for the area overall.

The Western Slope: Montrose, Ouray and Delta Counties

Town of Ouray, “Little Switzerland,” Ouray, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

We have only begun to scratch the surface around Montrose County. We have spent a lot of time in Buzzard Gulch and some time around Ridgway Reservoir in Ridgway State Park. These are some of the shorter hikes we have been doing. Hiking around here in the summer is hard on our elderly chocolate Lab, Gibby. He does better when there is less heat. While we have been taking it a bit easy on him, he still squeezes in around nine miles a week. That is still not too bad, but our hiking with him is a bit more limited. We are happy to accommodate the most loyal and loving dog in the world. 

Ahhh, the Perimeter Trail in Ouray. This trail is a roughly six-mile loop around Ouray, passing waterfalls, bridges, cliffs, and overlooks above town. You also pass through the famous Ice Park, where, in winter, they have a famous ice climbing “park,” with lots of features created by and through the City of Ouray. The views are stunning, and the trail has some steep sections. It was probably too hot when we brought Gibby last time, but maybe we will try that again in the fall. I highly recommend this hike if you happen to be in Ouray. This place has a way of taking your mind off of literally everything else and bringing you straight to presence. 

Not so long ago, Paul, Gibby, and I hiked on the Grand Mesa. It is incredibly beautiful up there too. It is much cooler, temperature-wise, than Montrose. Gibby did far better in the cooler air, and even found some cows. More adventures with Paul and an aging chocolate Lab. I will take as many of those as I can. Yes, hiking is a wonderful thing, and even writing about it makes me realize that there are probably millions of people out there who need a job and there are none for the foreseeable future. That does not mean all is lost, but it does mean you have to keep trying until you are successful. 

Our elderly chocolate Lab, Gibby, has his own ideas about aging well in Top Ten Ways an Elderly Chocolate Lab Lives the Blue Zones.

Tomorrow

Gibby found some cows on the Grand Mesa, Delta County, CO. Photo by Wendy Stieg

There is an old saying: today is the first day of the rest of your life. Yes, it is. Something Paul reminds me of frequently. He also tells me that it is a part of a John Denver song. We do get to start anew. Regardless of what happened yesterday. I especially like “Today is a gift. Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, that’s why they call it the present.” Kung Fu Panda. So take either one. Perhaps my eventual success will serve as a referendum on all the assholes who couldn’t see what I had to offer. I will find multiple streams of income and create a life that does not depend on getting past an applicant tracking system or meeting somebody else’s bullshit definition of job performance.

You may find this hard to believe, but I genuinely hope none of the people who rejected me ever find themselves without a job and on the other side of the hiring system they represent. But statistically, the older they get, the more likely that becomes. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone. That doesn’t change the fact that employers, as a group, suck.

What about tomorrow? This whole experience is Force Majeure at its finest: something beyond my control changes the course, and I find a new one. Being neither conventional nor wise, I will find a creative way to move the needle today. But first, I’m going hiking. And probably tomorrow, too.