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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Trying Not to Pee Myself with Glee

Ya'll may remember about a month ago my mentioning that I was practically begging this other company to hire me.

I have an interview today at four.

Please, light a candle, say a prayer, offer up a sacrifice, cross your fingers, toes and eyes, bang a drum, say a few chants and maybe even do the PeeWee dance.

Whatever works.

I haven't been on an interview in 15 years. I am scared beyond shitless.

Maybe the lunar eclipse taking place on the winter solstice is a good sign. I'm hoping so.

Wish me luck!

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Christmas? ALREADY?

From: 

http://www.motifake.com/index.php?front

Frog Pond Holler was covered in a thin layer of ice this morning. Every surface twinkled like sugar candy as the light eased over the ridge tops and bounced around from truck hoods to frozen leaves and crunchy grass.

My weekend was kinda hectic. I went straight to Big City after work Friday because apparently, Christmas is like .... this week or some crap. What the hell? I think I missed a month somewhere. I braved the mall, which wasn't too bad, then headed to a few other places before heading home at some ungodly hour with nothing to show for it but two tiny bags.

My Christmas spirit has gone flat.

I plan to make another attempt Thursday  morning, heading back to Big City and hitting up a couple of specialty shops, which will remain nameless for the time being. We don't want The Amazon to suddenly decide to read my blog and find out where I went.

Ma's been complaining of dizziness when she moves her head to one side, so Saturday morning we went down to the Hee-Haw Clinic. She saw a new doctor, you never know who you're going to get down there, especially on weekends. This guy seemed to almost have some sense, until he started explaining about tiny rocks in your inner ear that get misplaced and stuck where they don't belong.

Ma said she'd never been to the doctor and told she had rocks in her head before.

Her P.T. came by Saturday afternoon and explained it so that it made a little more sense. Either way, Ma has some prescription antihistamines now that she takes three times a day and makes her sleepy. I'm all for anything that knocks her out.

She's currently pissed off because T.A. and I won't buy a tank full of oil. Before I go any further and you get the impression that I'm a cold hearted bitch, allow me to explain that we have a 1/4 tank and it only has to last until her check comes on the first of January. We started the season with 1/2 so we've only used a 1/4 so far this winter.

But she obsesses. And wrings her hands. And she threatens to sell off half the land to get some money. After I'd spent the better half of Saturday night hurling egg noodles, I really didn't have a lot of patience for the great oil debate yesterday, so when she started threatening to sell stuff, I sorta lost my composure and made a few threats of my own.

Not a great plan when dealing with someone recently diagnosed with a mental illness.

But, I suppose, we do the best we can and everyone's entitled to be human once in a while. I ended up hiding in my bedroom and watching Fringe on Hulu for the rest of the night, leaving T.A. to deal with her Nana.

My guilt, it runs rampant.

As for now, I should get to work. Bossholio is out for the week and my inbox overfloweth. I never heard from that other job I applied for, but I've not completely given up hope.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!
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Of Vagipecia, Little Deaf Girls and Begging for Employment

Oh my Lord ya'll. I didn't mean to neglect my little corner of teh innerwebbies for so long. My mission to haul crap out of Ma's room and get it livable, Ma's actual release from the nursing home, the ginormous shitstorm of laundry I discovered while digging, my merciless pursuit of a new job and numerous phone calls to everyone on the motha effin' planet to try to get the medication Ma was prescribed when she was released have all sort of snowballed on me.

My breaking point is about to become painfully obvious to numerous individuals. I may have to go all ghetto hillbilly on an insurance provider and one Venezuelan nursing home doctor before it's all over with.

Here's the Readers Digest Condensed version of a few of the highlights of the past couple of weeks:

• During a visit to the ER with Ma after some chest pain while she was at the nursing home, The Amazon, Ma and myself spent a good thirty minutes discussing the whys, whens and hows of coochie hair loss. I've decided it should be called Vagipecia and there should be a line of products to promote hair growth and little coochie toupee's in a variety of colors and styles.  
• While at Shady Pines, Ma told us lots of wild stories about men with pet possums, smuggled guns, little deaf girls and her involvement in FBI operations. I thought it was all bullcrap until the day she was released. I was helping her into The Amazon's Blazer when I was startled by a middle aged woman in scrubs, running across the parking lot screaming, "AAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRR!!!! AAAAAUUUURURRRRRR!!!! MOMOMOMO AAAAAAUUUUURRRRRRRRRR!!!!" I was more than a little afraid. Apparently the little deaf girl was actually in her early fifties, was a CNA at the home and had grown attached to Ma during her stay. The events that followed as Ma's new friend, who could read lips, and I attempted to get Ma's bedside potty in the backseat of the Blazer were comical. I didn't know how to open the tail gate. There was lots of yelling and grunting because apparently in my mind, if you yell at the back of a deaf person's head, they should be able to hear you. 
• I found a position open doing almost exactly what I do now, only selling baby products instead of boring industrial crap, making more money and right up the road from Wally World. I sent them my resume', called to follow up and then sent an email to follow up on the follow up. Or in other words, I'm pretty much begging them to hire me. I should know something by the end of the year. 
• We've had a parade of physical therapists and home health nurses marching through the house since Ma came home. This has caused me to hit the extra anxiety meds of my own a few times, due to the fact that my house looks like it was ransacked by a gang of rabid raccoons. I had to completely neglect the rest of the house while I scraped 15 years of muck off Ma's bathroom floor. There is a funk rising from the general vicinity of my kitchen sink.
• Ma has already started calling 911 for imagined emergencies and people who have things to sell in the classifieds, pretending she's interested. I may have to hire a sitter. 

Ya'll stay tuned. This is gonna be fun. I can tell.

Later Taters!!
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