soapboxdiner

The Gods Smile Upon Me

Well, Christmas Eve went exceptionally well this year. On the ledger: many happy gifts exchanged, one well-behaved child happily tormenting his mother with enticements to figure out how to put a Digimon Transformer back together, oyster stew for dinner and pumpkin cheesecake for dessert.

All is well on the SBD homefront. The only thing left is to bring in the Schwinn and leave baking soda Santa tracks upon the carpet. Life is good.

A funny thing happened to me on the way to Christmas today. It was an interview. Never has the world seen a more disastrous set of events in the history of interviews. I'm taking this to mean that naturally I will get the job. Oh yes, it is only when you've given up all hope of dignity and grace under fire and just let it alllll out that good things will happen. It's like karma. Someone, somewhere takes pity on your woeful bumblings. Of course, this only happens if you are laughing so hard at yourself that things fly out of your nose, but then again, isn't that the best part?

Yes, today I woke at 6:30 to ready myself for the rest of my morning. I got up and brewed a pot of coffee and sat down to the news and my stories. Because that is what you all are, you know. Some more than others, but reading your tales of daily living and your ruminations are, in fact, my Stories. Picture me as a little biddy in a housedress and curlers in my hair, sittin a spell in a rocker. I do enjoy my stories.

And there I was, writing my own Story. I hurried that last sip of coffee and I hurried that last parusing proof. I then got up from the desk, oh, about 7:30 it was. Time To Get Ready. This involved four changes of attire, a struggle with some pantyhose, and actual real live contact lenses and makeup. The Gods were dumbfounded; I was being girly.

At five minutes to 8, I began to sense an odd sensation deep in the bowels of my belly (that pun was intended). What was that sensation, you wonder? I shall tell you. That sensation was the beginnings of a foreknowledge that Things Are Not Going Well. It sits in my belly and rumbles about upon occasion - this one regarding the question, "Where did I put those directions?"

Hunt and search, search and hunt I didst do valiantly. And equally valiantly, 10 minutes later I gave up and tried to recall the verbal directions I'd received last week.

That unsure knowledge firmly planted upon my short term memory, I performed a mental checklist of items needed for the interview. Resume? Check. References? Check. Printout of State application? Check. Money for parking? Uh oh. Grab checkbook. Okay, off we go.

A block from the freeway, I obsess: Did I grab the checkbook? Did I put it in the coat pocket? Best to check.

After one frantic search of the coat, followed by one screeching halt on the rain and dew dampened downhill-round-the-corner, the car was safely re-directing itself into the opposite direction from the freeway and back to the AM/PM for an ATM. Do I still have money in my account? Oh God ohgodohgod, please let there be money in my account.

And the Gods smiled upon me, there were funds to be had.

The journey recommensed with SBD driving just this side of negligent vehicular manslaughter, but time indeed was re-made. It is now T minus 30 minutes to interview, and we are an 45 minutes from ground zero. The same ground zero we are hoping we've recalled correctly.

Yet arrival was made with 10 minutes to spare. More thanks to the Gods of light holiday traffic. A windblown SBD entered the building - a building she'd been to before. It is a secure government building, if recollection served. And up to the building directory we go. Lord, please say there is a public restroom in the lobby. I've had three cups of coffee and my hair is something fierce. And the air carried the tinkling voice of a stunning highly maintained government official, said the voice into the Security telephone, "Well, can you please send someone down for me? I know, I know I need my keycard for the elevator. I left it up on my desk not five minutes ago. Will you please send someone down for me?"

Uh oh. "Escuse me, high maintenance lady. Did I hear you correctly that the elevators are locked?"

Why yes, I certainly did overhear that correctly. Oh, but look! There is front desk security now. Oh please sir, might you please phone up to the 20th floor and announce me? I've been informed that the elevators are locked. Yes, my name is SBD, I'm here to meet Ms. Interviewer. Oh, you've called for me? Why thank you, sir, and a Merry Christmas to you.

And the interviewer arrived. SBD? Hi, yes, thank you for coming. Might I ask, why did you call me down, rather than coming up? It is a public building and fully open today. Why did you call me down?

I'm sorry, I asked security to call you because I was informed the elevators were locked. I was told I needed a security keycard to access your office.

Well as you can see, Ms. SBD, the elevators are functioning perfectly without a card.

I do apologize, Madam Interviewer. I was apparently misinformed.

Oh not at all, Ms. SBD. No worries. She says through a muffled huff. Here, please sign in and read through these documents. I will return for you at the appointed time. Oh, and could you please place this sticker upon your person for me? It announces that you are a visitor.

Going well so far, no? There is nothing like a first impression leading one to the thought, "I'm going to be interviewing a woman who is unable to operate an elevator independantly."

And so, she returned. She says, Ms. SBD, If I recall correctly, you've worked in the medical field, correct? As you know, the medical field requires their documents to be pristine, as we in the legal field require as well. But we'll talk more about that shortly. Do you have the requisite documents for me?

I happily passed them to her, only to find that I'd printed them out on the backside of a pretty impressionist watercolor stationary. And really, who amongst us doesn't love a nice aquatic scene to grace the backs of their important forms?

Oh, Ms. SBD, what lovely paper on the backside of which you've printed. Very lovely, indeed. Here, please fill out this conflict of interest form for me.

And I do. Question one: Have you ever worked in a legal environment before? Answer: Yes, I worked for a family law firm called Northwest.... oh shit! What was their name again? Oh crap! Oh wait, I think I have an extra resume in my accordian folder. Do you think she'll notice if I bend over and ruffle through my papers placed neatly beneath my feet? No, she won't notice that.

And onto the interview. All is well. My tongue did not once swell to it's typical six inch height. I felt blessed and excited to be alive.

Do you have any questions for me, Ms. SBD? Blah blah blah. At this stage in our lives, we know how these things go, don't we?

Okay, Ms. SBD, what I'd like to do now is have you go into this adjoining office for the role-playing portion of your interview. Please read through this two-page document. When you are ready, I will call you. Please either answer my question, or if you are not able to do so, please take a message. Okay? Are you ready?

I exude confidence. Why yes, Thee Who Holds My Future In Her Hands, I am ready.

Ring ring.

Good morning, Office of the AG. This is SBD, how may I help you?

Because I'm cool and collected like that. I'm one mean phone answerin mutha.

Ah yes, good morning. I was wondering, could you tell me what we paid on fake question fake invoice for fake company. The date on that is fake date.

Certainly. May I ask who's calling?

Uh. I mean ahh. Ummm. SBD, don't worry about that. Just answer the question.

I flabbergasted the interviewer at her own game! Because you know, at this point, it's allll about having a bit of fun, right? And so I internally laughed, "I shook her uh-up and I caught her stuhh der ing."

Like I said, I'm cool like that. My phone skills cannot be surpassed, even by those seasoned in swashbuckling phone hijinx. I out swashbuckled the swashbuckler!

It was a party in my person, everyone. I felt like George Castanza, and I LOVED it!

On it went for 12 questions. Needless to say, all ice was broken. We're gonna relax and enjoy this one, baby. And that concluded the reception part of the interview. She had me return to her office. Promptly, my coat was offered to me and she said, "Thank you so much for coming down, especially on the holiday. I hate to rush you, but I have another interviewee awaiting me. We'll be making decisions in Mid-January, once references are contacted. Thanks again, and Merry Christmas. Here, let me get the elevator for you."

I'm thinking that went well. Surely this job is mine, all mine.

10:49 pm - 12.24.02
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