i really should be a professional job interviewee, because regardless of my actual success, i am awfully entertaining. i sincerely enjoy the sort of professional/casual banter where you balance I AM SUPREMELY PROFESSIONAL AND QUALIFIED with YOU WOULD ENJOY HAVING A DRINK WITH ME AFTER WORK.
the part i enjoy the most, though, is the part where the someone who was recruited against her will begins the post-interview tour, so that you can fall in love with the place where you will never set foot again. i even said as much (MY ONLY REAL SLIP UP OF THE DAY) and somehow got through the awkward silence, and then somehow really got on well with my erstwhile host. i am purposefully misusing the word erstwhile, because i like the way it sounds in this sentence.
in my head, the word i used most often was fetching.
and then for some reason in the middle of a conversation it felt as though a bug had gotten into my shirt, a moth or spider, and it tickled all the way down to my belly and i squirmed and tried to carry on the conversation, and when she looked a way, i smashed the spot where i thought it was, but felt nothing and realized that it was probably a brain tumor. i have always prided myself on knowing that when the imaginary bugs started crawling, i would recognize them as imaginary immediately, no matter how annoying the realism. i would simply say, 'they're not real. they are only real in your tumor infested brain.'
unless someone points at an insect on my face and asks OH MY GOD HOW COME YOU ARE NOT SCREAMING? i will maintain my calm.
hey, you know the best thing about a new job? the new people, the pay raise, the bigger office??? NOPE. the best part about a new job is ALL THE SHIT DUE LAST WEEK AT YOUR OLD ONE.
i am both ecstatic and ex-static today, having finally resolved to sell my soul to someone who will not love me back. the dream died hard, and i am fresh out of reincarnation. i am lacking for intimate touch this week, but making up for it in creepy crawlies and firm handshakes.
8 comments:
If I could talk like Arnold Schwarzenegger, I would tell you that, 'It's not a tumor', in his lovely caveman-like way, but I can't so I won't. Therefore, it probably is a tumor. I'm so very sorry.
Arright. Just as you stole your writing style from Asia, I will, well should, well must, well might, steal the inclusion of oddly appropriate photographs from you. I wonder if I can do it retroactively. Wait, whose blog is it anyway?
I loved interviewing fetching young candidates. Then when they get a job somewhere else in the corporation and we pass in the halls, I have someone young and fetching to say hi to. Except I didn't hire them, someone else did, so they'd smile weakly at me and then walk away scowling. But hey, I talked to a girl.
don't be sorry, i love tumors! especially sweet potamoes!
don, i should correct: fetching older candidate. strange things are happening to my body chemistry. i am woozy.
You're .. uh your writing... is so easy to love.
wait...are we talking about casual dating and the hook up or a job interview here? 'Cause this sounds like my every Friday night out.
Congrats on the new cubicle, man!
You got a tour? I didn't think they did that for people applying for jobs at Wal-Mart. They musta liked you.
Jeez. I leave the Internet for a few days and you go and get a new job on me?
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