Years ago, I said jokingly to my boyfriend, "I'm going to get a job, working in a Victorian on the corner of 25th and K." Like an HOUR later, I got a call from my recruiter to interview for a job at...25th and K.
When I went in, I was convinced it was fate and that I would get the job. The receptionist said, "So...you're here for the job?" and I nodded. She gave me MEANINGFUL EYES OF DEATH and an almost imperceptible shake of the head. There was no way to misinterpret it.
I stared at her, but I had no chance to ask her what she meant, as a man came out immediately from his office and called me in. He started describing the job, but I was busy trying to figure out WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT OUT THERE when, possibly sensing my inattention, he stopped suddenly and said, "What do you think?" I rallied. I said, gamely, "Well, that sounds very similar to my last job. There, I was responsible for..." and I started rattling off my own list of job duties, reeling inside, because I was quickly concluding that he was a dick.
I let my eyes drift over to the fireplace. As I continued to speak, the words he had been saying began to sink in, and I realized that nothing I was currently saying had any connection to the things he had said. I doubled my efforts, trying to find a way to give some relevance to what I was saying, to connect the skills I had just listed to the requirements he had rattled off, but I couldn't bring it around. I couldn't overcome the centrifugal force; I had been thrown too far afield to make my way back. Eventually, I just......stopped talking. In the middle of a sentence. Something like "I was responsible for curating articles on..." And then just...nothing.
I looked up from the fireplace and sighed, and we both said, "Well!" and we both pushed back from the desk and stood up at the same time. It was AWESOME. On my way out, I gave the receptionist my NO FUCKING WAY face with a heaping helping of "Phew!" She beamed. A couple days later, I interviewed for and got a fantastic job, working for a woman-owned ad agency. It was great. It was kitty-corner, on the corner of 25th and K.
THIS IS ALL TRUE.
When I went in, I was convinced it was fate and that I would get the job. The receptionist said, "So...you're here for the job?" and I nodded. She gave me MEANINGFUL EYES OF DEATH and an almost imperceptible shake of the head. There was no way to misinterpret it.
I stared at her, but I had no chance to ask her what she meant, as a man came out immediately from his office and called me in. He started describing the job, but I was busy trying to figure out WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT OUT THERE when, possibly sensing my inattention, he stopped suddenly and said, "What do you think?" I rallied. I said, gamely, "Well, that sounds very similar to my last job. There, I was responsible for..." and I started rattling off my own list of job duties, reeling inside, because I was quickly concluding that he was a dick.
I let my eyes drift over to the fireplace. As I continued to speak, the words he had been saying began to sink in, and I realized that nothing I was currently saying had any connection to the things he had said. I doubled my efforts, trying to find a way to give some relevance to what I was saying, to connect the skills I had just listed to the requirements he had rattled off, but I couldn't bring it around. I couldn't overcome the centrifugal force; I had been thrown too far afield to make my way back. Eventually, I just......stopped talking. In the middle of a sentence. Something like "I was responsible for curating articles on..." And then just...nothing.
I looked up from the fireplace and sighed, and we both said, "Well!" and we both pushed back from the desk and stood up at the same time. It was AWESOME. On my way out, I gave the receptionist my NO FUCKING WAY face with a heaping helping of "Phew!" She beamed. A couple days later, I interviewed for and got a fantastic job, working for a woman-owned ad agency. It was great. It was kitty-corner, on the corner of 25th and K.
THIS IS ALL TRUE.
No comments:
Post a Comment