Since we all have to come up for air on occasion, I decided to stop and take a breath. Noooo, not the kind where I’m focusing and trying to spell how it sounds, but a real breath. The de-stress myself kind of breath. The stretch-it-out, send-a-text, why-isn’t-it-5-yet, man-this-makes-me-have-to-pee, kind of breath. You know that kind right? Whatever. You do you just aren’t admitting it. I am… I needed to think about my day how silly and hour can be.
I had this interview today, an oral board they call it. (get your mind out of the gutter) Basically they put you in a windowless room with three people that have really big titles and look like they’d rather be anywhere else. At this stage there is no regard for appearance or personality. (or there isn’t supposed to be: I certainly wouldn’t show up after three days of camping, without a shower, in clothes that had been through hell and high water, but to each…) Everyone is on a level playing field until all have answered. They ask you a series of questions that, by the time your turn is up, they’ve asked at least 5 times. So why wouldn’t they want to escape??? It’s like a frickin’ sauna in there too and not very bright. They sit listening to 15 people blah, blah, blah their way through a half an hour and deciding how much of their answers are bullshit (on a scale of 1 to 10) so they can compile a list of the best “candidates” there were that day. Now let me say, you should (and I did) answer honestly. But who has a perfect answer for all 10 questions without some degree of crap? No-one. That’s the caveat. These things are designed to see whos’ mind is quickest under pressure and who can come up with the most truth filled horse crap of all the people they see. Maybe not, but the first question was really three questions in one and a bit confusing. So right out of the gate… the choice is to temper your truth with crap and hope it flies or be bare bones honest and ask for the repeater. But like so many band-aids I ripped it off rather quick and painlessly with minimal scarring and no irreparable damage.
I got out of there in time to have a bite with my mom and listen to the voice mail I never thought I would get…. ever. No, think again, the ex did not call and no one is pregnant with my illegitimate love child (okay I was grasping) but it’s this kind of far fetched shit that makes calls like the one I got possible. I had a message from the Judge Judy show. Yeah…. They wanted to know if I wanted to have my suit with the psycho landlady settled on television. Because you know it’s a “good opportunity to get all your money, which you we pay out in 30 days but in small claims court can be a tedious process. We put you up in a hotel and fly you out at no cost to you.” No wonder crazy people end up on these shows. They think they’re gonna get paid. NO way. First, it’s one thing to talk about the psycho landlady in terms of, well… the psycho landlady on some anonymous blog that could be anyone in the us. But to air my shit on TV for the world to see is a bit much. Second, I have no doubt I am right and the judge will rule in my favor. I don’t need some TV personality to solidify that.
That was exciting. Shew… Now I wait. Stretch, breathe. (recurring theme) That’s the next step in this process. Wait. Wait to find out whether they bought your truth filled crap and ranked you high enough to put your name on “the list”. Then wait some more to see if they pick you from “the list” to have an interview with three other people in another uncomfortable room. This time however, appearance and personality are part of the package. You can make up for a lot with confidence. I’m still glad I smelled good today. People always remember that girl that showed up for her interview with bloodshot eyes, smelling like she had smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in the car with the windows up, then sprayed on a bottle of musky perfume to cover it right before walking in. (yes I still remember her, she will be my benchmark for the unhireable) Or the kid who doesn’t tell you he’s only 20 but accepts your offer of a beer while he waits for his interview at the bar. (oh, but you knew, test #1 – FAIL!) If you don’t tell me no, you won’t tell your friends either. Can we say big fucking fine??? Not good things to do at an interview. Man I’ve gotten long winded today. I need to go for a hike. And stretch. And breathe. And maybe watch Judge Judy…
