Photo and tag line ganked from Grizzle:
Pretty much how all this shit went down.
Please don't take this to mean that my interview LOOKED like this photo--if they had been repeatedly poking my bloated, bloody carcass with sticks for their own amusement, I wouldn't have stayed through the entire interview. Unless there were snacks, or unicorns, or snack-serving unicorns.
Positive things I can say about my interview today:
I was interviewed by nice people.
I wasn't drunk or on crystal meth this time.
I remembered to turn my cell phone off.
I laughed at jokes, while not making any.
I wore clothes; they were laundered.
I suppressed the 'donkey-punch witch-cackle' I'm prone to making.
I didn't mention how I hope robots will take over the world someday.
I didn't mention that I'd read the Bridges of Madison County and cried, for reals.
I answered the 'where do you see yourself in ___ years' without saying "your mom's house".
I didn't cry.
I didn't poop on the table.
I didn't say these words: Hitler, retarded, mangina.
(I did say, "That's what she said", and "What wouldn't Jesus do?" And I'm assuming the answer to that is: hire me.)
Negative things I can say about my interview today:
A meteor did not fall out of the sky, striking the building we were in and ending the interview early.
It was raining.
My official line is that I delightfully bombed my interview; I'm usually really confident when it comes to interviewing, but the stars just didn't align for me. I was really nervous, for a number of reasons, so I couldn't stop sweating like a jittery pig, and I rushed my answers before thinking about them. I was asked a lot of questions that were similar to each other, which to me meant that I wasn't being articulate enough, and the more I tried to simplify my answers, the further down the rabbit hole I went. I also couldn't find the word *funny* to save my fucking life, unless it was to use the word un-funny. I just wasn't totally comfortable until the end, when I realized they were all cool and I could have been having a better time with it. It was also interesting that the interview was led by a former sometime-client of mine at Julep--and that our connection there was, weirdly, Sean Nelson. She had some inside joke with her significant other or something about him, and I used to be friends with him back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth--now he's just an artist I used to know who gave me a kickass record player. Anyway, it's like I can't fully get away from Julep (or Sean Nelson, heh). Maybe I will end up working at Julep, one day a week in Gig Harbor, for the rest of my life, until I die from a freaky cheese grater incident. It wouldn't shock me, is all I'm saying.
Today I need to shake off my present failures and go back to the drawing board. Thanks to everyone who sent me job leads today (total count: 5), WHILE I WAS AT MY JOB INTERVIEW--apparently you all knew that my interviewing skillz were made from the foreskin of Satan's evil member. I wish you traitors had warned me. Then again, maybe the other applicants interviewing will show up with a swastika on their forehead or wearing a Rick Astley t-shirt; actually, the t-shirt would probably get them the job. I should have worn it.
Que serra and all that. The adventure continues: Craigslist, ho!