9:53 a.m. - 2005-02-16
free concerts in my bathroom
Alright folks, it's storytime with Aunt Jessi.
SO I had this interview yesterday. It was more of an "informational interview" which basically menas nothing on paper, but if the person you're meeting wiht likes you, they are generally willing to do things like tell you about secret jobs that no one knows about and circulate your resume and answer questions that come up in your career quest. That sounds like a video game....Career Quest!
Pretty much everything that could have gone wrong between me leaving work (early) and getting there, did. First, I had arranged to meet up with the fabulous Jen Tolner to have some de-breifing time and drinks after this meeting, and she came down with a horrible bout of flu or something. Then, right as I'm about to casually leave (I had asked permission and was vague about my reason for leaving...this went over fine) the phone rings and I hear my coworker go "What?! It doesn't? Oh my god." She hangs up and comes running over to my office and says "Did you send out the invitations to the banquet?" and I say "Actually, I gave my first draft to our boss and she changed it." Apparently my design taste is a little too progressive. Oh how they love the clip art in the Mon Valley. The bottom lin eof this part of the story is Thank God It Wasn't my Design. Basically, my boss or someone else sent the invite to the printer without the location on it. A. this would have been tragic regardless of my schedule and B. if it had been my fault, I would have had to go down to the printer and miss my meeting OR spill the beans about who I was meeting and why. Not that it's this huge secret and it's not like i'll be leaving this job anytime soon...it's great experience for what I want to do...but these things are sensitive.
Now, I had chosen my outfit carefully. I wore suit-pants, and a camisole with a cardigan over it. My suit jacket was in the car, ready to be thrown on once I got there. I leave. I get in the car, and start driving. The gas light comes on. I am nearly killed by a man in a monster truck who swerves into my lane. I make it to the gas station. I pull in, get out and realize I'm on the wrong side. My new car's gas tank is on the right wheras my Saturn's was on the left and I often forget this. I get back in the car, pull on the other sidce, get out and realize the pump doesn't reach the car. I've already swiped my debit card, so now it's beeping at me. I reposition the car and have to start over with the debit card machine. They probably charged me twice. I fill the tank up, moving that littl emetal thingie that i just learned about that allows you to let go of the pump and let if fill itself up...and I take this opportunity to switch from my cardigan to my suit jacket. I take off my cardigan and in the 6 seconds it takes me to toss it into the car, while wearing only a camisole a passing driver shouts "Take it off, Honey!" from his SUV. Nice, buddy. It wasn't like I was wearing a teddy and thigh-highs. Sheesh.
I get it the car and now comes the coffee issue. I love drinking coffee while I drive. But my cup holder is broken. So I have to hold it until I put the car in "drive" because the gear shift goes up too far for the cup to fit into the ashtray thing. While it's in drive, it's fine. But when it's in Park or Reverse, it doesn't fit. I have smashed my fingers several times, forgetting this little fact, trapping them between the travel mug and the gear shift. OW. SO I hold the cup until I'm in drive and I take it out before I put it in park and generally take the cup with me.
But when you're going ot an interview, you don't waltz in with a cup of java. SO I pull into the parking garage and realize it's Valet. A man runs over ot me and opens the door, and I realize the coffee thing is a problem. If I leave it, he will either smash his fingers or break my cup. If I take it, I'll look like an addict or like I don't think this meeting is worth complete professionalism. So.....I chug. half a cup of coffee in about 4 seconds, while this guy kinda stares at me, holding my door open. No time ot explain such things.
I jump out, grabbing my portfolio case and my phone, deciding I don't need anything else in my purse so I just leave it which was stupid, espcially because I just turned my car over to some stranger. As I walk away and up the hill, I realize that the woman who scheduled my appointment SPECIFICALLY told me I could not get into the elavator to go upstairs unless I had picture identification. My wallet is now in my car. Parked God knows where. I have 7 minutes to get to my meeting and I'm not exactly sure which building it is. I can run back and annoy the parking people and hope they get it in time and are willing to then re-park it. Or I can gamble that my charming smile will get me up that elevator.
To the building I go. And seated at the front desk is Lou. Lou is about 80 and has probably been doing this for most of his life. He looks like he's heard it all. But acting dumb and helpless a la Jessica Simpson will get you everywhere in situations like this. I breeze through.
But when I get in the elevator, the doors shut, it begins to ascend. And this panel on the wall starts ringing like a phone. Loud. Like that Brrrr-ring! sound that you're grandma's old rotary phone makes. I ignore it. The elevator stops a few floors up. A nicely dressed older man gets in. The door closes, up we go. The phone rings again. He glances at me and says "Well, what did you do?" I open my mouth to protest his good-natured accusation. And he says "I've worked here for 10 years and it's never done that before."
Of course it hasn't. I've never been here before. Things like this only happen to me.
He get out a few floors up. And up I go to the floor where my meeting is. When the doors open, they open right into a small, quiet lobby area. The phone is sitll ringing and it basically announces my presence. The receptionists peer over the desk with puzzled slightly bemused expressions. I say "I swear, I didn't do it." They chuckle and begin to speculate on why that might be happening. I finally interrupt them to say who I am because I am about 37 seconds away from not being on time. I am told the person I'm meeting with will be available in five minutes. I am encouraged to go to the lady's room. "Why don't you use the lady's room." She said.
I don't think I've ever been encouraged to go to the lady's room before. I head that way, suddenly deciding I must have food in my teeth or that they want to talk about how I broke the elevator. I head that way and as I walk in, two women are standing at the sink, talking. One goes into a stall at the same time I do and the other stays by the sink fixing her hair. That one leaves, but the one in the stall doesn't realize it. After a moment she says in this really sing-songy voice...actually she was pretty much singing, I just don't think I ever heard the song. "Ooooh, the days goes my so fast." Pause. " Don't they?" Silence.
Yup. I say, helpfully.
"Oh, gosh. Joan, are you gone? Oh, I'm so embarrassed."
"Oh, don't be. I always sing in the bathroom." I say.
I always sing in the bathroom? What? This is neither true, nor particularly helpful. Now, I'm mortified. For all I know, this woman is the president of something important and I just announced untruthfully, "I always sing in the bathroom." J. Do. - Bathroom Singer. Omigawd. I need to get out of here NOW.
I hurry out and fortunately get through the next minute incident free, and proceed to my delightfully helpful and enjoyable meeting. Apparently I filled my quota of stupid comments and forgetful behavior prior to this meeting, by the grace of God. I rocked it and made a new friend and potentially lucrative ally in the game of "find your dream job someday."
