Brain Farts (Or How I Lost a Sweet Gig)

I'm in a uncomfortably warm room, wearing a pencil skirt that prevents me from sitting in my usual Al Bundy pose, and waiting for the first interviewer. The really nice pretty lady who greeted said I'd be meeting with 3 people and then take some multiple choice and writing tests afterwards, which is cool if she didn't say that like 20 minutes ago before she left in this fucking interrogation room to sweat and crack like a first time offender in lockup. Blergh to the max. Finally through the blurry glass, I can see a figure. He introduces himself as J and is not intimidating at all in his jeans and casual wear, but that's all about to change in like two seconds when he asks the shittiest question of all questions.

"So tell me about yourself."

Ok. That's not a question. It's a demand that is so damn vague and frustrating. WHAT THE EFF! This isn't a blind date on eHarmony. I want the job is I can I tell you, but nope we have to play all coy and shit. Random bullshit commences. Insert facts about education and obligatory lies about hobbies to showcase I'm not some sort of ignorant baby-eating monster.

Now that we have gotten to know all about each other, we can play hard ball. Job skills, career goals, and the dreaded:

"What do you hope to gain from your employment at XXX?"

A JOB!!! MONEY!! I WANT THE FUCKING JOB! But you got to play it cool. Which is the opposite of what I did. I had not a brain fart, but a brain hemorrhage. My mouth opens and I start rattling some nonsense about office software and Photoshop. This fucking position is for inbound sales calls. Fuck me.

J gives me a look of utter confusion, but I forge on. I'm too far gone. My last minute rally at redemption can only be made in the questions I have for him regarding the position and work to demonstrate my burning passion for this job. J smiles sympathetically and I know I just sealed my fate. Handshake. Nice meeting you. Let me get the next interviewer. Double fuck me.

At this point, it's all smoke and mirrors for me. I'm the fat girl hosting this party and someone has got to dance with me out of pity because I'm not gonna get any action despite putting on the show.I know it and J knows it. It's out of politeness that they are even bothering to conduct the rest of this godforsaken interview. Another 15 minutes of paranoid waiting ensues. Another kind looking gentleman walks through, his name is E.

It's my last stand and I know. Better make the best with E. It's all rehash and smiles with shit in my mouth. Then the fatal blow comes:

"Describe a conflict that you encountered in either your work or volunteer experience and how you handled this conflict."

SHIT. Normally you should have stock answers prepared for this nonsense. Something that demonstrates your sensitivity and problem solving skills. I mumble something about telling the manager, which is akin to being a grown up tattle-tale. Apparently people who run away from confrontation are not suitable for employment. Go figure. E painfully sits through my pathetic story, which makes him a far better person than I am. Another handshake. Nice to meet you. Wait here and fuck yourself.

15 minutes go by and pretty nice lady comes back to stomp my face into the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry, all the testing rooms are full. Let me just validate your parking. We'll email you later."

Why don't people just openly reject you anymore? It's so much more shameful to have to smile graciously at your interview after they have stomped all over you. I'd prefer a straight out bitch-slap for failing so hard at this interview. Nice lady walks me out. Handshake. Nice to meet you. You're never coming back here again.

Then I got lost in the parking lot. But never fear, I got all day validation for my humiliation so it's all good.

The Hunt Begins! Kinda ...

I'm a recent 23 college graduate with a liberal arts degree living in one of the states with the highest unemployment rates in the country. Add to this description that I'm not extraordinarily attractive and have (prior to this blog) failed at least 5 interviews, you get a rather ugly picture. In fact, the picture kind of looks like a piece of paper smeared with poop. Nevertheless, I am chronicling my failures so that I can learn from them and finally get a job (also to look back in painful remembrance). Thank you for joining me and hope you get as much out of this as I do.