Of all the things I could dislike about interviews, I think what gets me much more than anything else is the way I have to sell myself. The knowledge that I have to stand out in order to be chosen over however many others have come before and will come after. What if I don't want to stand out? What if I don't want to get noticed? What if I just want "just me" to be good enough?
I went for a run and stayed up till 1 last night to make sure I slept. And sleep I did, but only till 5-something because my subconscious was paranoid that I wouldn't wake up in time to get to the first interview. I left the house just before 7, looking okay, I thought - my burgundy skirt and black bell-bottomed sleeve shirt with the burgundy tank underneath.
I got to the location a half-hour ahead of time (better early than late) so I sat in the car for a bit before going in. Once inside, I was told to my chagrin that I had the wrong "714 Main Street." I called and couldn't get through, so I left a message saying I might be late. I actually wasn't; found the place in time on the other side of downtown. But when I got there, they handed me 4 pages of application forms to fill out, mostly personal questions, how do you feel about this scenario, etc. Stacey got there and sat down across from me and waited... I got through page two before she was like, okay, we can talk about this instead. We went back to her office for all of maybe five minutes before she goes, "I hate feeling rushed like this. You wanna just head over to your meeting at the school and call me when you get done? And are you sure you know how to get there?"
I drove off and minutes later realized I'd forgotten to write down the phone number that was posted plainly on the front of the store. Then I couldn't find the street to turn onto to get to the school. What should have been a 20 minute drive took 50. With 10 minutes of time left in the time slot of meeting that had been arranged for me, I went up to the hall only to be struck by the fact that they hadn't told me a room number to go to and for the life of me I had no idea who it was I was looking for to apologize for not showing up. After pondering how I could possibly ask someone, "I was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago... any idea where the person is that I'm supposed to meet with?" I stupidly walked out again. I drove back to the store, called the number, and walked in.
Stacey wanted to know about my schedule. Didn't I talk about it at the meeting? I couldn't tell her. Not after she'd tried to make sure my directions were good. Not after she'd left her meeting to get to the interview that morning because she wanted to fit it in before my meeting. She seemed to like me okay... and said we'll be in touch about coming in again for step two of the interview - to have me give her a massage. I offered multitudinous thanks and left.
My confidence was so shattered that I didn't even want to go into Marble Slab. I did finally go and apply... I figure it's something to keep me from going completely under if something doesn't work out right away with the massage... and I truly do like it there. And I bet if they hire anybody, I'm a shoo-in with all my experience. ;-)
I wandered around downtown for a while and finally settled on Coffee Underground for lunch. A nice place, but I didn't feel like being alone after the morning's drama and I was somewhat unwell. Fortunately, A Shlee came online (I'd brought my laptop) and was my friend. :-)
Then I left for the other interview, leaving in plenty of time in case I went to the wrong place. Except when I went in to check (I had it right this time), the guys at the desk escorted me back and I sat waiting for a half hour. "Do you have your resume?" I... well, no... don't you? "Well that's okay, I can print it off. And obviously you're not dressed for it... I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you I wanted to get a massage today to see what you're like." Well, I have jeans and a collared shirt in the car I can change into! "Would you? And you don't have sneakers? You can use mine, if you want!"
So I gave her a massage. Wearing her shoes. And I ran short because she didn't want me to do the fronts of her legs (that's 10 minutes that I should have added elsewhere but didn't plan for ahead of time). Then when I asked for feedback she said I could probably be really good (and I think she meant it) but that I'm holding back, like I'm not sure I really want to be doing this. Now, this interview was at a gym, for people who want deep muscle tissue work. This is not a "pet me make me feel good" massage. I wasn't sure how to deliver for her. But she's right. If there's any word to describe me, insecure would be a good one. She said she hoped I'd be willing to come in a few more times and give the other girl a massage and that they'll give me some good advice... thought that was awesome but didn't make me feel very confident.
Of course, neither of these ladies was much for the fact that I've never worked this sort of job before. Just in case you thought they missed it.
I drove around a bit, just getting acclimated to the area, then showed up early at the house where Michelle, my prospective new roommate, lives. So early, in fact, that she pulled in a few seconds after I did. Which was just embarrassing for both of us. It's a CUTE house, in perfect condition, the room is a good size, etc. etc. My biggest concern is that the place was spotless. She's a self-proclaimed neat freak. I'm... well, let's just face it. I'm not. I wish I could keep a house looking like that, but I know I can't. She says she'd be fine with it as long as the common areas are clean... I just don't know that it won't become a point of contention, even with my best efforts.
It was dark. I was tired. I was all spent on people I didn't know, in a city by myself, discouraged about the interviews and missed meetings and frustrated that I was frustrated because it's so totally a pride thing and I KNOW it's a pride thing and it's still such a HUGE part of me....
I needed to fill up on gas. (got it for $2.76, btw. that's a plus!) As I was putting the nozzle into the tank, it started spewing gasoline everywhere and got all over my right foot and hand. Then when I got back in the car, starting to suffocate from fumes, I couldn't get the key to turn in the ignition. I sat there, unable to roll down the window and not wanting to leave the door open, fiddling with the key and crying for a good 5 to 8 minutes before it cooperated.
I had a long day. And I am tired. To those of you who asked, thank you for caring how my day went. It's just... it was a long story that I didn't want to have to repeat.