Job Interviews: NOT for Wussy Babies

So yesterday I went on my first job interview in 15 years.

I left The Asylum at 2, went home, put on some dress slacks, a nice dressy top and put my hair up neatly, slathering lots of Spackle / makeup all over my face and looking fabulous. I felt like this:

I took a half a nerve pill because I already had the herky jerks, hopped in Jolene and headed to what I hoped would be my future place of employment: The Baby Factory. I got there way early, so I sat in my truck at the river side park next to their property, sorta like a creepy old pervert trolling the park for porta-potty nookie. While there, watching the rain fall on the rushing river, I discovered I had to piss like a Russian racehorse, but not enough to make myself use the park potty. My interview would have to take place with my lady parts clenched like a pit bull's jaw on a t-bone. I prayed to every spiritual being I could think of that I didn't cough or have a sneezing fit before it was all over.

When I arrived at the office, I first noticed that the interior walls were all painted bright, cheerful colors. The bright green, robin's egg blue and muted fuchsia were a big change from the 13 year old Ecru paint job here at The Asylum, the one that actually earned it the name. There were no cubicles, everyone seemed happy and friendly.. it was like I'd walked in to office nirvana.

I waited patiently in the hall by a stack of empty boxes for my interviewer to arrive. Everyone who walked by said hello and introduced themselves. I slowly started to realize that there were A LOT of young people there. After a short wait, a tiny Asian girl who looked about 14 showed up, carrying a clipboard. I figured she must be someone's assistant. She led me into the conference room, showed me a catalog of their products, then sat down and proceeded with the interview.

Um what?

She turned out to be the Senior Customer Service person. As she absentmindedly picked at her acne, she asked me questions about why I wanted to work there, what I did at my present job and all those other prefab interview questions.

My nervousness began to build. As she picked and talked, I started mentally going through the building. There was NO ONE there over 25, other than the owner, who MIGHT have been my age. Also? Everyone was wearing jeans, hiking boots and those sleeveless down ski vests that all the earthy upwardly mobile types wear. I was thankful I'd left my black, grocery-store-special-delivery-bought-out-of-a-giant-box-for-$7-hoodie in the truck.

I was a basket case. I started stuttering.. then worse.. the Ghost of Stupid possessed my body and I started babbling uncontrollably. I no longer had any control over anything that came out of my mouth.

Little Ming Lee: "What one word would your co-workers use to describe you?"

An intelligent person would have said, "competent" or "dependable" or "problem solver."

I did not.

Me: "Oh they think I'm sooooo CRAAAAAAAZZZEEEEEE!!!"

You think I'm exaggerating. I wish I were.

Soon, the door behind me opened and Little Ming Lee introduced the Sales Manager. Sasha, the 16 yr old prom queen with .... omg... the most PERFECT eyebrows. I don't even KNOW how you get eyebrows that perfect. And tiny hands. I felt like a swamp creature with a nasty thyroid condition as I offered my giant meat hook for her to shake.

I no longer felt fabulous. My upswept do now felt more like a granny bun. I know I must have looked like this:

I'm pretty sure that's the exact expression I had on my face.

Sasha asked what we'd covered so far. Little Ming Lee didn't seem to think my past job experience, my near perfect attendance or my ability to work under pressure were worth mentioning. She did however jump at the chance to tell Sasha that my co-workers thought I was "SO CRAZEE!!"

We all laughed. I'm not 100% sure they were laughing WITH me.

We talked a bit more.. well they talked while I stuttered, spit and drooled like I'd been slowly poisoned over a long period of time and my brain was gradually turning to liquid as we sat there discussing my future at The Baby Factory. After the interview, Little Ming Lee took me on a tour of the warehouse.

Remember that urgent need to pee? Yeah... it had then become an issue. As we walked through and I shmoozed everyone in the warehouse,  shaking hands with every Juan, Jesus, Carlos and Maria while introducing myself like I thought it would help, my lady bits maintained a vice grip on themselves because I'm too much of a social retard to ask to use the bathroom and I was pretty sure taking a massive tinkle right there on the floor would have been a deal breaker.

Keep in mind that I'm an untiny woman of middle age, wearing dress shoes, following a tiny ninja in hiking boots through a warehouse maze full of boxes and debris.

It had to happen. There was no avoiding it. Luckily I was behind Little Ming Lee when I tripped and fell out the warehouse door into the sunlight, staggering back to an upright position without ever actually hitting the ground. I didn't wet my granny panties, but I'm pretty sure Mr. Garcia, whom I'd just met, probably pissed all over himself when I tripped, if his audible yell of concern was any indication.

They said they'd just started the interview process but would hopefully know something by mid-January.

When I left, I stopped at Wally World to pick up something for dinner, ending up sitting in a bathroom stall bawling for a good ten minutes.

While I'm not very hopeful, I pray that I get the job and that it pays well (no, I didn't ask, because clearly I'm way more stupid than I thought) simply so that I don't have to go through this again.

I will get away from Bossholio and the GM here, even if I have to spend the next year crying in Walmart bathrooms to accomplish it.

In the meantime, I'm still looking.

We'll talk again soon. Later Taters!!
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