The Interview

I was a good girl. I got up at 8. I went to the gym. I came home, showered, got dressed and left early to make sure that I made it to the interview on time. I sat in a Starbucks to keep warm for the 1.5 hours between getting off the train and getting to the interview.

The first problem involved the stairs. See, I don’t like elevators. I don’t like the whole tiny, windowless moving box thing. I’m not very good at flying, either. However, I know that I might suffer serious psychological damage if I ever got stuck in an elevator…especially if I got stuck in an elevator alone. So I avoid elevators. I was perfectly happy to walk up to the 6th floor. I’m 28, I’m strong, I can walk (and run, and dance!) in heels, so why not?

Except that the doors to each floor are locked from the stairwell. You can walk DOWN to the first floor, but not up to any other floor. I found this out AFTER the desk attendant in the lobby went up the company and got their receptionist to come downstairs for me. I thought I was just getting a key to the 6th floor door. If I had known THAT was the plan, I would just have darted into an elevator with other people. I explained this to the receptionist, and I hope that she didn’t tell anyone else.

I’m kind of paranoid. I’m sure that people are always looking for ways to discriminate against other people. I was sure that any little thing that I did during this interview would disqualify me. Never mind education. Never mind languages. Never mind ability. Someone who is shy and nervous around people will never succeed because to be shy is un-American. Americans must be confident and aggressive to succeed. Most people can do confidence for themselves, but I cannot. I need to see proof from other people that I deserve it.

So I did the interview. I answered the questions as best I could, but I don’t know if they believed me. I took the test and it was easy. But I was nervous. I was playing with my ring and with my scarf and I kept one arm across my chest most of the time (for fear that the scarf would part and the fact that my top was fairly low-cut would not show). They asked me questions about professional experiences and since I have none, I had to answer as best I could. They asked a lot of questions about interpersonal communications. Ummm….I can handle people. I can. I’m just a loner type. A loner type that is hurt by most things that people say and do. A loner type that has no personal support.

They’re interviewing until next week. If they want to see me again, they’ll call for a second interview. That means that there is competition. This is a very bad sign. I don’t win competitions. I don’t get chosen over other people.


Coffee & Anxiety

I think that I mentioned previously that the mother of a high school friend had offered to help me get in touch with people in local companies.

Tomorrow morning I’m supposed to go to her home for coffee so we can get to know each other. I know that in the real world, this kind of thing probably happens often, but in my world, it is anxiety-producing.

I’m not very good with people.

I also know that in this kind of context, I have to pretend to be a happy and confident woman. I’m not this, either. Sometimes it upsets me that I have to pretend to be to make other happy. I always hoped that people would appreciate me, but I’m starting to realize that all that mushy, sappy idealistic stuff they teach you as a child is a lie.

Anyway, it’s snowing and there’s already around an inch of snow on the ground and it’s still coming down. So maybe I won’t be able to get out of my house tomorrow morning.