My avid yet futile search for a job finally provided me with an interview this morning. I finally received a phone call on Friday afternoon which I quickly answered even though I was in programming. (Bad llama.) I was so enthused to hear that a place wanted me to come in for an interview! I absent mindedly wrote down their phone number and address on my hand. Then I was swept away to more groups about feeling feelings and handeling emotions and kicking ED in the face yadda yadda yadda. By the end of the day I got home and remembered, "OH YA! I need to google where this place is!" And then I realized...
1. That all I knew about it. It was a place...that I had applied to. That wanted to interview me. For the job that I apparently had applied for. At this place. THAT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT IS OR HOW I PERTAIN TO IT. shiz.
2. I had washed my hands and completely removed all evidence of the number and address that was written on me prior to this moment.
3. Um...ya...about this job business...Really? *Inward Grown*
It is funny...I have been working since ten years old and LOVED making my own money. And everyone told me...oooo dont worry about work right now! And now people are telling me, YOU NEED TO FIND A JOB and I'm feelin' like...ya know I really like this time...this open space of nothingness that I am filling with things that I love. Like writing. And seeing friends. The ocean. Shopping. Being FREE to find me and get to know Winter. With all this t.i.m.e.
Time that will now be robbed by being enslaved to a desk.. To make money. Which will be spent on medical bills and rent and gasp...FOOD. Ugh. Why can I not have a money tree? Or instead of raining men, maybe it could just rain money?
But I digress. I come back to reality and grab my phone and locate the number that called me earlier that day and hit redial. Thank God for redial. Shiz. They are closed. So I jot down the info from their answering machine (which turned out to be um...WRONG and out-of-date) and dont think about it 'till Monday moring. Ok. I lie. I thought about it (actually dreaded it) all weekend...but ya know...denial is my middle name. Or a river in Egypt... I forget. So I get up this morning and pull on a skirt and try to look somewhat put together and wait for my friend to pick me up with the little guy she nannies for. I get into the car and begin to harness my inner mermaid as we sing "Part of That World." We pull up to the address I re-checked at 8am (opening) and low and behold~ THERE SHE BLOWS!~
But no seriously..it really blew.
****TEN WARNING SIGNS YOU SHOULDN'T WORK SOMEWHERE...LET ALONE PROLLY SET FOOT INTO THIS PLACE~*****
1. Green awnings....with big,white,awkward writing...and row upon row....of flashlights, lightbulbs, strobe lights...and all things "glowy" being sold inside by
2. Middle Eastern men. (NO. STOP. I'm NOT being racist here) but I'm pretty sure they had pictures of Saddam Hussein on the walls in their office....or Allah. Couldn't tell the difference. On the flip side...At least I would be required to stop 5 times a day to pray to Allah so I would definitely be able to get my snacks in to meet my meal plan requirements....kiddingggg kidding....:)
3. Does this mean I get to travel to Afghanistan/Pakistan/Iran/Iraq for the Christmas party?! Will their be a white elephant gift swap, I wonder? Will I GET an elephant!!! hmmm...note to self...DO NOT, I REPEAT~ DO NOT...fly there...travel separately...check.
4. I couldn't understand a word the dude who interviewed me said...Didn't even catch his name. Fail.
However, I could probably get away with answering the phone by saying,
"BUDDY THE ELF! WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?" every day and he wouldn't even know!
5. Dark cluttered messy desks. Panic attack just waiting to happen.
6. No benefits. 8-5 desk job. Minimum wage.
7. A teeny-tiny, yippy dog attacking my non-pants protected gams....I hate skirts...and small animals with claws upon bare legs.
8. "Are you afraid of dog?" Afghani man asks.
"No, not at all!" I reply as I try to shake the mangy mutt off my leg. Lying....
"What is his name?" I ask.
"Oliver," man grunts.
"Oh, so cute! My grandma has a Goldendoodle named Ollie!"
I think the man responded with "Dog's are smarrrrt." But he also could have said, "You smell like fart." so I am not positive....Like I said...thick accent....:/
9. Pretty sure it smelled like fart.
10. Seven minute interview...it took longer for me to brush my teeth and pull on the skirt in preparation for the interview than the actual commencement itself.
And that's the Dog'on truth!! ;)
Over n' out!
Winter G~
