The One With the Interview

I often wonder if my life is actually like The Truman Show; that someone, somewhere is watching me for his or her amusement.

When I go to the grocery store alone, I've been known to drop my 24-pack of diet pepsi all over the parking lot. Sometimes in Pittsburgh when my landlord would come down the stairs, I would turn off my lights so that he wouldn't be tempted to come talk to me. Yesterday, my first serious job interview was no exception to my pattern of erratic behavior.


Interview at 2:30pm.
Left the apartment at 1:30pm.
Distance between apartment and interview location: 2 miles.

1:40pm, arrive at metro stop, just missed the train... have to wait 10 minutes for the next one

1:55pm, arrive at next metro stop, just missed the train... wait another 10 minutes for the next one

2:15pm, leave the metro, begin walking down the street towards interview location

2:20pm, realize I don't think I'm walking in the right direction, ask the nice hot dog vendor for help, begin racing in the opposite direction

2:22pm, notice that high heels means bloody heels

2:25pm, arrive at interview location, security guard takes me directly to the elevator

2:26pm, realize that I am sweating profusely with no time to cool down


The scene basically just got worse from there. It was truely a comedy of errors with me trying to clandestinely wipe sweat from my face (which really isn't possible during an interview) and hide my bloody feet, and the fembot interviewer smiling and nodding at whatever I said in between trying to get an eyelash out of her eye.

I was even all ready for the firm handshake, but she just offered me a limp gesture that was more like a handsqueeze than a handshake.

As proper job interview etiquette calls for, I e-mailed my thank you letter today. But don't worry, Internet, I have no illusions about this.