First of all, let's all take a look at my new boots. Sweet Christ, aren't they just...BADASS? And they came with two colors of laces: Black (which you see here), and Total-Disregard-for-Human-Life-I-Will-Kick-Sick-Orphans-mustard-brown. They are heat and fire resistant up to 475F degrees for up to 40 minutes and they meet the NFPA 1977 Standard on Protective Clothing and Equipment for Wildland Fire Fighting. Dudes and dames: I have arrived. Now mind you, I am not one of those chicks who is shoe crazy, but I have to admit, I cried a little when I opened the box and saw these monsters.
Okay, enough about the boots. You've been following my employment drama for quite some time. I am realizing a lot of things during the process. 1. People in my office don't care about anything at this point, and 2. We are all competing against each other in the job market.
I had a second interview yesterday, so I went to work wearing a suit. Good ol' Crotch Grabber makes a comment about how "professional" I look, so I tell him I have an interview, that I'm leaving early and that's that. As I stroll around the office (let's face it, it's not like I have work to do), another coworker spots me, tells me I look good and asks if I have an interview. I tell her I do, she whispers "Good Luck" and I act out a little 'high five' and then I walk out of the office at noon.
Driving to the interview, it hits me: All I have to do is wear a suit and I have a free pass to leave work whenever I want! So this Friday I'm going to wear a suit and leave early. Why? Because my suit will be like Aladdin's magic carpet, and it will whisk me off to places I have only hoped and dreamed about. Or, it'll get my fat ass out of work early, and that works too.
So there I am, driving to the second interview. This is it, this is the deciding moment. Don't make any stupid comments. No farting, burping, yawning, scratching. Be cool, know your shit. THIS IS IT. And that's when realization # 2 hits me: My music selections are total bullshit for times like these. Unless I'm around other people, I listen to country music or classical. That's it. Can I tell you how hard it is to get pumped when the 'choice' song is about a guy whose girlfriend left him for another man and he couldn't even stop it because he had no idea she was unhappy in the first place? Or, have you ever tried to 'rock out' to Schubert's Finale of the 10th Symphony? It's challenging, to say the least. Not exactly the mood music to help you win the game.
But I did it. I walked in there like I owned the place. I took it to the streets. I told 'em where I got it. I didn't use one lame cliche. And ya know what? At exactly 9:51AM today, I was offered a job. At 2:17pm I accepted.
It's official: I kicked ass. I took names.
They didn't stand a chance.
Ok...
ReplyDelete1. You're not allowed to refer to yourself as a fatass....it's ridiculous...you're fucking hot...(and don't take it in a lesbian way, not that there's anything wrong with lesbians, but I just don't look at you that way...sorry)
2. Of course you were offered a job, and it is going to keep you here and pay you as much....because just like your mom said..."any company would be lucky to have you, because you are an amazing person"