The Last Interview I’ll Ever Go On

Since leaving my job in April I have gone on twelve (that is 12) interviews and that doesn’t even include the phone ones.  Here’s the highlight reel of rolling the please-hire-me job dice:

*The first interview was at a private, expensive school.  I was grilled for an hour and I do mean grilled.  I was so exhausted by the end of it I didn’t think I could walk to my car on my own accord.  I sent a follow-up email thanking them and said, “By the way you are not the CIA and I am not Edward Snowden.”  Not really.  I said I was “seeking other opportunities” and by other opportunities I meant some Xanax.

*I went on an interview a week after I broke my foot.  The parking lot was closed so I hobbled across the campus in 90+ temps with my ortho shoe.  I arrived sweaty and exhausted.  My interviewers arrived bored and with fifteen minutes to spare even though the entire place was void of any activity. Or energy.  I thanked them in an email the next day and said “Have you ever heard of providing reasonable parking options when you close the only lot to your school?” Not really.  I said I was “seeking other opportunities” and by other opportunities I meant handicapped parking.

*I interviewed with the owner of a jewelry store for an accounting position.  I waited forty minutes to talk to her while the head of one of the German Shepherd guard dogs rested on the knee of my black pants. She told me she’s not the least bit afraid to sue people (three currently pending) and that there were five more dogs in the back.  I looked at my hairy pants and wondered if all the dogs there shed or just the German Shepherds. I sent a thank you email the next day saying “I’d consider working here but between the dogs, the lawsuits and the fake Christmas tree by the register in July I don’t think we’re really in synch.” Not really.  I never even sent a thank you email for that one but they still called me to come back for another interview.  Declined.

*I interviewed for another part-time accounting position and at the end was asked about my HR skills? HR? Who the heck said anything about HR?  Not them in the job description but they tacked on that little something something as a special surprise for the interview.  I followed up the next day with a thank you email that said, “I will not be that person that has to tell the tech support guy that his B.O. is offensive to other employees and that he needs to shower more often.”  Not really.  I said I was going into the soap making business to save the world from tech support guys with B.O.

*I interviewed twice at a job in the hinterlands.  It was a done deal until they gave me the weekend to think it over and the more I thought about driving to Hinterland every day (a pain in good weather and misery in bad) the more it seemed this job wasn’t for me.  I sent them a thank you email and said “Good luck in your search for a candidate as AWESOME as me.”  Not really.  Well, maybe on that one I did.

I’ve smiled and laughed at dumb jokes and awkward silences.  I’ve picked my outfit to match the job. Conservative? Check.  Bohemian?  Check check check.  The fake diamond earrings that go with me everywhere?  Out out out.  I need to look like I have to make money ASAP.

I’ve blathered on about my good traits (think Girl Scouts) and my weaknesses (applying for jobs that I’m never going to get because I’m 58 so I might as well be dead).  Diversity, a bad boss, annoying coworkers, stressful situations. Are you organized?  Is that some kind of work thing? You name the scenario and I can guarantee you it’s been asked of me. I have flatly stated the amount of hours I am able to work and the pay I want without even a hint of hedging or backpedaling, which might mean I’m growing up to be a real working girl who knows her worth.

Which so far hovers around zero.

I have had a filler job for the last six weeks but out of nowhere I got an email for a job I applied for months ago.  One more time I did the interview tango – this time with a Zyrtec chaser that made me want to do an antihistamine face plant on the desk.

Did it go well?

I’m no judge of that.

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