Anyone following me on Twitter and paying the slightest attention yesterday will want to skip this and yawn and ignore the reprise. Hey, I’m still happy and not much can spoil my mood!
Anyhow, the first bits of good news were that I had two interviews yesterday. One was scheduled for the morning and one for the afternoon. The morning one was up at a local university. Where I have been like twice before. And it is really quite large.
I drove myself in since I wasn’t certain how close the train could get me and everything was going just fine until it came time to park. I drove up and down a half mile long parking lot (this is no exaggeration of length), vainly looking for visitor parking. Every sign I saw indicated one would need a permit and if one did not have a permit, one would be towed.
I finally decided to risk it since I’ve never known any university parking enforcement to be super up on things. I had to park most of the half mile back, away from the doors. So I got out and walked as sedately as I could. My suit was black and the day was warm and I didn’t want to arrive a sweaty mess.
Got most of the way to the entrance and only then saw a sign indicating Visitor’s Parking, thataway. The sign was halfway down a short, steep hill and not very large or well lettered. So of course I didn’t see it from the car. At first, I was going to brazen the whole parking thing out. But then I remembered that I had left my phone in my purse and my purse was in the trunk. And my paranoia kicked in.
Self, I thought, what if these parking police are really up on their stuff? What if you went in and interviewed and came out only to find no car and no way to call anyone in a blind panic? That would be your sort of luck, you know.
So I turned around. And began walking much more briskly, already knowing that I was going to be late. I even broke into a trot several times, undoing any efforts I had made to arrive in a non-sweaty and timely fashion.
My mind ran through a litany of: “At least you don’t really want this job.” And alternating in there was a chorus of: “Fuckfuckfuck.”
I finally reach my car and drive back towards the building for the millionth time. As I passed the workers who were busy mowing down weeds, I wanted to duck my head in shame. They kept looking at me as I passed, before in the car and then on foot, twice (once trotting), and now again in a car.
I took the hidden left and then the sudden right and began to wonder if there was ever going to be another sign indicating visitors might park somewhere. Then I hit a spot of road construction and had to wait to be able to move again. I was very pointedly not looking at any clocks at this point.
I finally found the parking structure and was admitted in. I parked hastily and jumped out of the car again and headed into the building. Which was actually two buildings and each one with a very similar name. I picked one and wandered through the very long halls in search of an elevator.
Then there was more confusion. My instuctions on how to find the correct office went like this: “Get off the elevator on the fifth floor. Then take a left and then another left and you’ll see a reception area and then take one more left and my office will be right there. On the left.”
Which all sounds great and fine until you realize that in this bank of elevators, there are some on opposite sides of each other. So it sort of really depends which side you come up on to determine whether or not that “left” thing is accurate. Mine was not the correct side.
So now I’m wandering through more hallways and thinking: Self, you don’t even want this job. You’re who knows how late. You cannot find this man’s office. Maybe you should just leave. Just… slink out in shame and go to work. After all, you have that other interview for the job you do want later today.
And then I found his office so I swallowed all of that and apologized for being late before he had a chance to say anything.
As it turned out, they didn’t have their shit together either. And I was able to explain that I had some trouble with the parking, which they accepted easily. Things from there went very smoothly and when I was walked back out, I was actually told that I was their first candidate and that they really liked how I had looked on paper and that I also interviewed very well.
I don’t think they’re supposed to tell people things like that.
The rest of the day went by without much more from me that can be turned into a tale of woe. I went to work, was annoyed by Kooky and found out that we were approved for the condo and will finally have a place big enough to fit all of our possessions that have been in storage for the past 6 months. I spent the rest of the afternoon basking in thoughts about getting a bed – a real bed – again. And my summer wardrobe will be here in time for the hottest part of the year. And I will have more dress shoes. And I can finally know for certain whether or not any of my dishes got broken. And, you guys, my spice cabinet will be restored!
That good mood carried me through interview number two, where I was informed that for the most part I had a lot of what they wanted and needed, but since I don’t have any accounting in my background, they’ll have to consider that. It’s the only negative on a list of a number of positives, the strongest of which are that I impressed on them that I am very organized, a quick study and self motivated. I should hear something by Monday.
Of course, what I didn’t tell them was that I organize everything because if I don’t know exactly what is going on, I tend to wander around parking lots, looking lost and confused, hoping no one sees me.
That being said, I have no idea why I’m telling all of you how derpy I am.