Chutes and bladders
After submitting...well, more resumes than I could even count (after you send out 20 or so, you lose count, y'know?), on Monday morning I finally got two nibbles. (I really, actually, unconsciously just typed "two nipples" and had to correct; I already had those.) I set up both interviews for Tuesday, and then spent most of the night flipping around quite sleeplessly, and unfortunately sexlessly, in bed. Really, the last time I was on that side of a job interview was sometime in the last century. "Nervous" doesn't even scratch the surface of what I was feeling; I think a combination of "panic" and "terror" might be more accurate.
Tuesday I rousted my dolphin-sized ass out of bed around 7 and undertook some seriously overdue grooming. I realized, as I labored to make myself presentable, that I had neither shaved my legs nor worn any makeup since Molly and I split. It's a wonder one razor did the job, and that I didn't put mascara on my lips or something equally fucked up. Sasquatch bitch needed a makeover. I also weigh a lot more than I did last time I wore dress clothes, and I couldn't find my damned waist cincher to save my life. My good winter coat has a lining that tends to make any shirt I'm wearing hike up underneath it; I don't just mean a couple of inches at the belly - I quite often wind up with the bottom of my shirt up to or over my tits by the time I'm done driving somewhere. So there was something else to add to my general sense of distress; the last thing a potential employer needs to see from me is an expanse of bare belly and bra-clad bazongas. I'm too old and out of shape to apply for jobs where those things would be an asset. One more thing to remember: make sure body is covered before entering interview venue.
After all that worry, my morning interview was short, sweet, and surprisingly smooth. I was all set for an intense grilling, and instead, I had a nice, informative chat with a sweet (and very, very cute) young lady. Of course, my nerves were still playing volleyball in the pit of my stomach, and by the time I'd thanked her and exited the building, my bladder was making an urgent pitch for immediate drainage. I drove toward the main drag, several miles away, where all the fast food restaurants and their lovely public bathrooms were just waiting for me, trying all the time to think about something not pee-related. It just wouldn't do to wet myself, at least not until my second interview for the day was complete. Call me old fashioned, but I just don't think it makes the right impression on a potential employer to see an interviewee with a soaked crotch (again...not applying for jobs where that would be a plus). All the way to 28th street, my thought process went something like, "Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm, I sure don't have to pee, nope, not me. Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm raindrops keep fallin' on my head...NO! Hmmmm hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmm not peeing, not peeing, not peeing. Think about cats...cats step on my bladder...hmmm hmmm hmmmm hmmmm...dry bladder, dry bladder, not peeing, not peeing. Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm..."
I've never been so happy to pull into a goddamned Wendy's in my life.
After taking the Best Piss in the World, I had a couple of hours to kill before my second interview. Normally, I'd have gone to the sushi restaurant and lingered over some miso soup and crab warships, but my finances are too fucked for that right now. I'm a little familiar with downtown Grand Rapids, but not totally confident of where I was going, so I decided to just head in the direction of the second appointment. I thought about checking out the gay bar that was on the way - I figured I could afford a bar Coke - but when I pulled into the parking lot it was...packed. Pun fully intended; sorry, it had to be said. I drove on. It took me quite a while to decide exactly where my destination was, as the office building in which it's housed has no number displayed and the name of the company is nowhere on the doors. I finally called and had my destination confirmed. Still an hour before the interview, and my nervous bladder was starting to bedevil me once again. "Bitch," I scolded my bladder, "I just took care of you at Wendy's. Why you gotta do me like that?" And my bladder said "PEE. NOW. OR ELSE." I drove back down the road, probably for a couple of miles, before I found a gas station. My car whipped into a parking space almost of its own volition, and I bolted out and up to the door...where I beheld a sign which informed me "No Public Restroom" with a definite subtext of "Hahahaha, we enjoy watching you wet your pants, fuckers!" I limped back to the car and headed back to the interview. Though I hated the idea, I was going to have to beg the interviewer to let me use the bathroom. I know that they know that everyone has to pee, but it just makes me feel unprofessional to bring it up when I'm begging for a job.
I entered the building, intent on finding the correct office for my appointment, and very nearly missed the giant "Restrooms ----->" sign next to the stairs. Oh, hell yeah! My dress boots made a quick-time KLONK KLONK KLONK on the wooden floors, in perfect harmony to the SLOSH SLOSH SLOSH in my about-to-say-fuck-you-and-void-itself pee reservoir. There it was, the angels were singing like they had to go as badly as I did, and after locking the door with trembling hands and navigating what seemed like half the length of a football field to get to the toilet at the back of the room, I experienced the Best Piss in the World for the second time in one day. Did you know that was possible? It's a new one for me. I started to wonder: Will it be like this every time I interview for a job? If so, somebody better hire me pretty fucking fast here, because my dress pants are too snug to hide Depends.
Alright, I think I'm done discussing urination. For now. I reserve the right to return to the topic as the whim strikes me.
My second appointment was with an agency who'd indicated a need for employees to handle a variety of jobs, including several kinds of clerical work, which is what I'm seeking. However, once I sat down in the office for my interview, it became clear in short order that they weren't hiring anything but salespeople. Sales just aren't my thing. I'm not slick enough for the kind of bullshit talk that most sales jobs require. I initially accepted an offer to return the following day and work alongside an established salesperson to see if I was suited to the work, but the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I was with the idea. That interview in the morning was brief, but the sales interview was like a bad speed date. The guy did all the talking - fast talking - never gave me the opportunity to ask him any questions, and made me feel completely hustled. I began to have doubts about my doubts: Was I just being a big pussy about trying a new kind of job? Can beggars really be choosers? I was awake until after 4 a.m., flipping around and tossing and turning and watching really bad TV. When my alarm went off at 8, I decided I'd call and decline the offer. I think I can get fucked in the ass without driving all the way to Grand Rapids for it.
So, I'm hoping for a callback on the first job, and in the meantime I'm whoring my resume all over the Internet. You think I should start mentioning my $2 tricks? Maybe having "Whore" on my resume would catch somebody's attention.
In other news:
Chris vs. Rami on Project Runway this week. Each had to show three pieces to break their tie for the third spot in the finale at Bryant Park. As if they weren't planning to pick Rami all along. I liked Chris' collection waaaaay more that Rami's ugly, clunky dresses and that ridiculous coat that looked like the shameful love child of a Jillian and Christian design tryst. Why was Rami's fugly gown with the pods attached to the hips described as acceptable because it's a "fantasy dress" when Chris was criticized for designing clothing that's all drama and not ready to wear?
Also, I'm puzzled why everyone seems so grossed/creeped out by the use of human hair on Chris' work:
People clip other people's real hair into their own for extensions all the time, and I've never heard that referred to as creepy. People wear animal fur on their clothing, and to me, that's a lot more disturbing than human hair; at least no one, presumably, has to kill the humans to acquire the hair. I would call the use of human locks on clothing unexpected, but if anything about Chris' presentation was creepy, it was the models' makeup.
Hmmmm...I really thought I had another topic or two for this, but hell - it's nearly 5 a.m. and I have shit to do today, so I should probably attempt to sleep.
But first, of course, I shall pee.
Tuesday I rousted my dolphin-sized ass out of bed around 7 and undertook some seriously overdue grooming. I realized, as I labored to make myself presentable, that I had neither shaved my legs nor worn any makeup since Molly and I split. It's a wonder one razor did the job, and that I didn't put mascara on my lips or something equally fucked up. Sasquatch bitch needed a makeover. I also weigh a lot more than I did last time I wore dress clothes, and I couldn't find my damned waist cincher to save my life. My good winter coat has a lining that tends to make any shirt I'm wearing hike up underneath it; I don't just mean a couple of inches at the belly - I quite often wind up with the bottom of my shirt up to or over my tits by the time I'm done driving somewhere. So there was something else to add to my general sense of distress; the last thing a potential employer needs to see from me is an expanse of bare belly and bra-clad bazongas. I'm too old and out of shape to apply for jobs where those things would be an asset. One more thing to remember: make sure body is covered before entering interview venue.
After all that worry, my morning interview was short, sweet, and surprisingly smooth. I was all set for an intense grilling, and instead, I had a nice, informative chat with a sweet (and very, very cute) young lady. Of course, my nerves were still playing volleyball in the pit of my stomach, and by the time I'd thanked her and exited the building, my bladder was making an urgent pitch for immediate drainage. I drove toward the main drag, several miles away, where all the fast food restaurants and their lovely public bathrooms were just waiting for me, trying all the time to think about something not pee-related. It just wouldn't do to wet myself, at least not until my second interview for the day was complete. Call me old fashioned, but I just don't think it makes the right impression on a potential employer to see an interviewee with a soaked crotch (again...not applying for jobs where that would be a plus). All the way to 28th street, my thought process went something like, "Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm, I sure don't have to pee, nope, not me. Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm raindrops keep fallin' on my head...NO! Hmmmm hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmm not peeing, not peeing, not peeing. Think about cats...cats step on my bladder...hmmm hmmm hmmmm hmmmm...dry bladder, dry bladder, not peeing, not peeing. Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm..."
I've never been so happy to pull into a goddamned Wendy's in my life.
After taking the Best Piss in the World, I had a couple of hours to kill before my second interview. Normally, I'd have gone to the sushi restaurant and lingered over some miso soup and crab warships, but my finances are too fucked for that right now. I'm a little familiar with downtown Grand Rapids, but not totally confident of where I was going, so I decided to just head in the direction of the second appointment. I thought about checking out the gay bar that was on the way - I figured I could afford a bar Coke - but when I pulled into the parking lot it was...packed. Pun fully intended; sorry, it had to be said. I drove on. It took me quite a while to decide exactly where my destination was, as the office building in which it's housed has no number displayed and the name of the company is nowhere on the doors. I finally called and had my destination confirmed. Still an hour before the interview, and my nervous bladder was starting to bedevil me once again. "Bitch," I scolded my bladder, "I just took care of you at Wendy's. Why you gotta do me like that?" And my bladder said "PEE. NOW. OR ELSE." I drove back down the road, probably for a couple of miles, before I found a gas station. My car whipped into a parking space almost of its own volition, and I bolted out and up to the door...where I beheld a sign which informed me "No Public Restroom" with a definite subtext of "Hahahaha, we enjoy watching you wet your pants, fuckers!" I limped back to the car and headed back to the interview. Though I hated the idea, I was going to have to beg the interviewer to let me use the bathroom. I know that they know that everyone has to pee, but it just makes me feel unprofessional to bring it up when I'm begging for a job.
I entered the building, intent on finding the correct office for my appointment, and very nearly missed the giant "Restrooms ----->" sign next to the stairs. Oh, hell yeah! My dress boots made a quick-time KLONK KLONK KLONK on the wooden floors, in perfect harmony to the SLOSH SLOSH SLOSH in my about-to-say-fuck-you-and-void-itself pee reservoir. There it was, the angels were singing like they had to go as badly as I did, and after locking the door with trembling hands and navigating what seemed like half the length of a football field to get to the toilet at the back of the room, I experienced the Best Piss in the World for the second time in one day. Did you know that was possible? It's a new one for me. I started to wonder: Will it be like this every time I interview for a job? If so, somebody better hire me pretty fucking fast here, because my dress pants are too snug to hide Depends.
Alright, I think I'm done discussing urination. For now. I reserve the right to return to the topic as the whim strikes me.
My second appointment was with an agency who'd indicated a need for employees to handle a variety of jobs, including several kinds of clerical work, which is what I'm seeking. However, once I sat down in the office for my interview, it became clear in short order that they weren't hiring anything but salespeople. Sales just aren't my thing. I'm not slick enough for the kind of bullshit talk that most sales jobs require. I initially accepted an offer to return the following day and work alongside an established salesperson to see if I was suited to the work, but the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I was with the idea. That interview in the morning was brief, but the sales interview was like a bad speed date. The guy did all the talking - fast talking - never gave me the opportunity to ask him any questions, and made me feel completely hustled. I began to have doubts about my doubts: Was I just being a big pussy about trying a new kind of job? Can beggars really be choosers? I was awake until after 4 a.m., flipping around and tossing and turning and watching really bad TV. When my alarm went off at 8, I decided I'd call and decline the offer. I think I can get fucked in the ass without driving all the way to Grand Rapids for it.
So, I'm hoping for a callback on the first job, and in the meantime I'm whoring my resume all over the Internet. You think I should start mentioning my $2 tricks? Maybe having "Whore" on my resume would catch somebody's attention.
In other news:
Chris vs. Rami on Project Runway this week. Each had to show three pieces to break their tie for the third spot in the finale at Bryant Park. As if they weren't planning to pick Rami all along. I liked Chris' collection waaaaay more that Rami's ugly, clunky dresses and that ridiculous coat that looked like the shameful love child of a Jillian and Christian design tryst. Why was Rami's fugly gown with the pods attached to the hips described as acceptable because it's a "fantasy dress" when Chris was criticized for designing clothing that's all drama and not ready to wear?
Also, I'm puzzled why everyone seems so grossed/creeped out by the use of human hair on Chris' work:
People clip other people's real hair into their own for extensions all the time, and I've never heard that referred to as creepy. People wear animal fur on their clothing, and to me, that's a lot more disturbing than human hair; at least no one, presumably, has to kill the humans to acquire the hair. I would call the use of human locks on clothing unexpected, but if anything about Chris' presentation was creepy, it was the models' makeup.
Hmmmm...I really thought I had another topic or two for this, but hell - it's nearly 5 a.m. and I have shit to do today, so I should probably attempt to sleep.
But first, of course, I shall pee.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 4:48 AM
11 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
Job hunting sucks in the same way that moving sucks. The only way I can survive an interview is to get all hopped up on caffiene and Red Hots before hand and go in with that "fuck it" atitude.
I just peed, so I'm ready to comment.
I don't know why the slightest bit of anxiety makes so many of us need to pee. But it surely does.
I am inclined to tell you this, do with it what you will. After a variety --- HUGE variety --- of corporate jobs, Jif is doing, for the past three years or so, what he did the first few years of our marriage: selling. And he is extremely successful at it. AND, there is no one who has less of a "sales personality" than he does. He is decidedly introverted, quiet, low-key. And people LOVE that about him. He approaches people wanting to help them with their needs -- in his case, it's direct advertising -- and is honest and friendly. They may need his service, in which case he explains it all to them, or his service may not be their best choice, in which case he will honestly tell them so and make another suggestion, if he can. I'm just saying, you are an insightful, caring person, very easy to like, and sometimes these qualities are much more successful in sales than the stereotypical sales traits. End of lecture/pep talk.
I totally agree with you that those PR MFers were going to pick Rami no matter what crap he smeared on his models. Chris didn't stand a chance. That pissed me off. I think they made him jump through hoops just to keep the drama going, because they knew the viewers loved seeing him. At least he got to show more of his talent and imagination. I wish he had shown his red dress, but again, I don't think there's anything he could have done that would have made a difference in the pre-determined outcome. And Rami's coat was a nightmare. And what woman doesn't want big sparkling bedpans attached to each hip when she's wearing an evening dress? Puh-leeeeeese.
The human hair . . . I don't know. It was surely creative. But . . . we pull hairs off our clothing when we notice one. I dunno, when I saw it, I cringed, not so much because it freaked me out, but because I knew the judges would not be pleased. I just thought, "Oh, Chris, don't go there . . . " Oh, well. Chris needs his own show. I'd absolutely watch.
Hey woman!
Best of luck in your interviews. I hope things go swimmingly for you, and I know someone is going to recognize what a great person and asset you are.
Listen to Susie when she says don't count yourself out for sales. She's a wise woman. I would much prefer to buy something from you than a fast talking salesman.
And I also agree with just about everything Susie said about PR.
And I agree that Rami's work (even the way he talked about his inspiration for it) was a rip off of Christian and Jillian's art-inspired pieces.
Rami was so tunnel-visioned and unwilling to experiment and he only decided to stretch his design legs at the very very end.
So no wonder Rami's end product was half-baked and derivative. Honestly, it was like his experiments were something that one of the more together and artistically mature designers would have done early to midway through the competition.
I knew Chris barely had a chance...but I'm actually glad they drew it out in the long run because I honestly don't think it was until this last show that he really was able to fully express his vision and the range of what he could do. I don't think what he does naturally is couture (and in my mond, that's good because I think that world is EFFED UP).
I do think Chris is an excellent costume designer who has tremendous range. Now he will probably get lots of job offers for movies and broadway and who knows what else! And of course he can also do couture, and can design his own boutique or somewhat commercial line even, for folks who like his brand of cool.
He and Sweet Pea are my favorite PR people ever. I want them to succeed. But I also want them to be in places where they don't have to fight, where they are celebrated for what they do and who they are without any pressure to succumb to the more sterile or uppity norm.
Now Ihave to pee.
brb
Good luck with your interviews!
With the cost of living going up, I think you ought to move to at least$3.50 on the resume. ;)
*fingers crossed*
I haven't interviewed for a job in a long time, but I do remember that if you have a 'funny feeling' about a job, there is a damn good reason for it.
Good luck with the interviews!
Shit... I just realized I haven't shaved my legs since you and Molly split either... I should probably do that...
I have nothing to add about PR as I don't watch the show, but I'm sure you're totally right about it.
Yeah, sales in general are one thing. But that job just didn't sound right at all. I'm glad you turned that one down.
And I think the hair looks cool on that outfit.
But..... it's just not FIERCE!
are you SURE you don't want to re-think the West side of Lansing? I know it's an hour + drive, but the money???
I'm glad this didn't go where my recent pee story went. Yours was less costly, and didn't involve City Hall.
Sucks to be outta work so long that it'll be deadly to be back, but a girl needs her sushi.
Mr. B - I'll have to try your approach...if I get any more interviews!
Susie - I will agree that there are perfectly legitimate sales jobs and honest salespeople...but the guy who interviewed me was slick as greased snot. I might consider sales, but not for that guy and his bait-and-switch want ads.
And Chris definitely needs his own show! At least he and Sweet P did get to show at Bryant Park as decoys...not as much fun as actually being in the finale, but it's gotta still be cool to show there. I guess I'm pulling for Jillian to win, based on what I've seen of her clothes.
Sheryl - Rami's designs don't thrill me one bit. I liked his first outfit of the season, but then we saw it over...and over...and over...
I wasn't impressed with what I saw of his finale collection at all. I thought it looked really clunky.
M_D - T'ree fiddy it is!
CKelli - It's too cold to shave your legs unless you have to.
Squirl - Oh, but it was SO FIERCE! I saw it described elsewhere as "Sunset Boulevard meets the Addams Family" and I don't think that's a bad thing. :)
Opera Gal - Nein, it's just too far, too much gas, too much wear and tear on the ol' Cruiser daily. I'm thinking I may be back selling shoes soon.
Anybody wanna buy my worn socks? It doesn't get much sexier than that.
Mermaid - Sushi, hell - I just wanna pay my heating bill!
Don't underestimate your salesman skills. I am pretty sure that you could do whatever you set your mind to, but if you aren't "into" it, then by all means say "to hell with it". Life is entirely too short to be doing anything other than what makes you happy...as happy as a J-O-B can make you anyway. Good luck to you in your quest.
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