I got a call from a recruiter this past week. We’re a PEO, just like you’ve worked for in the past, and we have two positions open. One’s a COBRA specialist and the other is a general benefits specialist. I found your résumé on monster.com and it looks like you’re a good match.

“I’m sorry,” I answered, “but I’ve been out of field for three-and-a-half-years. I’m probably not the candidate you’re looking for.”

Oh, that’s a shame. Well, thank you for your time.

The next thing I said surprised even me. “Wait a minute. I’d have to read up on the details, but I’m generally aware of the changes in COBRA. What’s the salary range for that one?”

It didn’t meet my requirements, so I turned down further consideration anyway. The incident still surprises me and makes me think, though.

First, it indicates that I may just be wrong with my assumption that my career in employee benefits administration went down in flames.

Second, it suggests that I’m actually still interested in getting back into the field, even though I’ve tried to convince myself it would be a bad idea. After all, part of the reason my career ended was because I burned out and that sent my performance into the toilet.

I’ve since learned a little about myself, though. One important thing I’ve learned is that I’m so intense that I’m going to burn out on anything sooner or later. I’m currently suffering from some burnout in my current position, which is totally unrelated to the kind of work I used to do.

It took me three years to burn out on marketing-type work. It took me over three times that long to burn out on benefits administration. When combined with the fact that I’ve been following the health care reform issue — I’ve admitted that I was a single-issue voter about it in the 2008 Presidential election — and the fact that I added CEBS coursework to my Day Zero list, I’m beginning to wonder if what I needed was a respite instead of a change.

Those who knew me when I worked in the field know that I’d considered it a vocation, not just a job or a career. I’d also often had cause to wonder if I had been meant to do it all my life. And despite the burnout, I’d loved the work. I’d been known to say I’d be willing to do it without pay if it weren’t for economic realities.

I’ve mourned the loss of that career more than once.

The idea that that mourning may have been premature is a fairly appealing one, and while I’d planned on other priorities, I’m thinking that I might just move the CEBS coursework up a little in priorities for my Day Zero list. Who knows? Maybe that particular career isn’t quite done yet.

There’s only one way to find out.