being the interviewee? not so much
My preliminary job interview was yesterday morning. It was a telephone interview, which seems to be that office's standard first step in hiring people, based on the questions they were asking me. There were 5 people on the other end, listening to me talk to them via their speakerphone, and that freaked me out. To be fair, I was pretty nervous already, but the speakerphone thing pushed me over the edge into Extremely Nervous. I remember almost none of it except that I rambled too much and told them I was nervous (about 3 times), but also that everything they asked me "describe your experience with ______" I had an answer to. The only things I couldn't say I could do/have done is fluently speak a language other than English/have used one particular website. I remember I made them laugh two or three times, but I don't remember what I said. I had several questions to ask when they gave me the chance, which I know is a good thing, but I barely remember their answers to my questions. It's all a blur, is what I'm trying to convey here. The guy heading up the interview said they were in the process of deciding who would come in for an in-person interview, and they would call me within a week to let me know either way. We wrapped it up and hung up and I curled into a fetal ball and cried. You know: Standard Interview Procedure.
Prof, Sharky and I went to see Pirates of the Carribean 2 yesterday afternoon, which I specifically wanted to do, to get my mind off the interview. The movie was Hilarious in places, but overall it was unsatisfying and I rate it a MEH. I was hoping there would be a message from the interview people waiting when we got back, but there wasn't. No one called before 5:00, and I knew there was no reason for them to have called THAT VERY DAY, but I also knew it would make me feel a lot better if they did. Fortunately someone was working late, because the phone rang at 5:20, and it was arranged that I'll go in on Monday at 1:00 for my in-person interview. It sounds like it'll be grueling, because after my interview with the search committee, I'll be meeting with the boss of the office, and then she'll take me on a little tour around the place and introduce me to people--OY to the tenth power. I wish there was a mechanical spanking machine option I could choose instead, because surely the whole ordeal is just a fancy hazing ritual, right?
Listen, can I ask you a question, fashionistas? I assume I need to wear a skirt to this shindig, but I never know anymore the proper pantihose to wear. It's super hot and summery, so opaque hose are wrong, correct? And I've read enough trashing of nude color hose to know those are wrong, but considering I'm extremely pale, I am loathe to buy hose that are too dark, because then I have mismatched drapes/upholstery syndrome. Am I wrong to resist the tan hose? And if so, what crime did I commit against the Universe that was bad enough to bring "suntan" color hose back into fashion while I am still alive to see it? When I was in high school, suntan hose were all the rage; I hated them then and I hate them now. Any advice y'all could give me on this pantihose matter would be greatly appreciated. I'll be shoe shopping this weekend and will get the correct hose at that time.
This is utterly off the subject, but I wanted to let you know that the people I thought were Mennonites are actually Hutterites. I have no idea what the difference is, and frankly I don't care, but I wanted to set the record straight because I do so LOVE a straight record.
We made the corn, which I believe, from my internet research on the topic, is called elote. It would have been just as delicious as the corn we got last weekend except it was a bit immature and the kernels were too small. I got some frozen (off the cob) corn today, so we could try that option this weekend. Lord knows Shark and I will need something to bond over, as Prof will be going over to see his mom this weekend and help her with her house building project. I would talk about the project but I don't really understand it. What I know is, she's building a house under some kind of program where she (or whoever she can con) puts in a certain number of hours of work per week, and then, I don't know, she gets a house. I TOLD you I don't understand it. But anyway, it's just me and Shark this weekend, and considering it's supposed to be 105 degrees both days, plus the fact Sharky is driving me crazy lately, it should be a fun time. Of course by "fun" I mean it will all end in tears. Probably. Or maybe not. If we can find a crappy but funny movie to go to (for the laughing, bonding, and air-conditioning) things might just turn out fine, especially when you throw the corn into the mix. And all that wine I'm going to drink.
Kidding, I'm kidding; I'm not going to drink a bunch of wine. What I will actually do this weekend is work on a to-do list I've drawn up, the most important item of which is emailing friends. I made a small start on it this morning by emailing a friend who emailed me, like, a MONTH ago, but since I'm so behind it's slow going. If I owe you an email, please know I absolutely love you and I don't mean to be a jerk and I will try never to be a jerk again, ever.
I guess that's all I have to tell you, though I could go into detail about the horrendous zit forming on my face. It's pulsating and I think it's about to become sentient. Don't look at me, I'M HIDEOUS!
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