(^^^^am I the only crazy out there or does K-fed actually look kinda cute?)
Thursday was an interesting day. Job "interview" # 4bajillion and 7. Yes, interview gets the illustrious quotation marks, because it was referred to as an interview, but I didn't actually HAVE an interview.
First off, let me preface this by saying that this was the most drawn out application process EVER. First an app, then a resume, then the "personality quiz". I really think that the personality quizzes are incredibly discriminatory. If I had lots of free time and access to beaucoup dinero (okay, just the latter. The former, admittedly, is somewhat true) I would sue the makers of this quiz, and every place of employment that doles them out. I mean, come on, of COURSE people are effin' annoying. People piss me off on a daily basis. Okay, more like an hourly (minutely, perhaps, if that's an actual word, in that context). *Ack my dog is resting her head on my forearm, it's becoming very difficult to type.*
But I digress, it's not how you FEEL, it's what you do with those feelings. And I pride myself on having relatively well developed frontal lobes. While I frequently encounter people I'd like to clock in the head, reason tells me that a)this might bring about charges, and a lawsuit b)they might be able to clock me harder and c)on the job, it would mean that I would get fired. So, duh, I don't do it. I plaster on a smile, and say my rehearsed, polite lines.
I'm very bothered that I am subjected to telling a high volume of lies. (*Okay maybe not, read on).
But I digress, yet again. After all of that, I had to choose what position I'd like to apply for, and take an occupation specific quiz. After all that, I received the call from Soothing Voice Lady requesting a one-on-one interview.
So, we set one up for (last) Thursday. When I got there, I waited in the front lobby forever, only to be called into a different room, to take YET ANOTHER QUIZ. This quiz had culinary chef-level questions. Like they wanted me to know terms like these:
la clé seam on shaped dough, 'key' clay
la couche dusted towel for proofing coosh
la coupe cut,score coop
croquant crisp crow CON
croustillant crisp crew steel YAHN
la croûte crust crewt
la cuiller spoon (not a common spelling) coo YAY
la cuillère spoon coo YAY
cuire to cook queer
la détente rest before shaping day TAHN
diviser to divide, cut to loaf size dee vee SAY
l' eau water oh
l' épeautre spelt ('grand épeautre) eh PAW truh
Are you effin kidding me? Man, I applied to be a cook in an effin' BURGER SHACK. I didn't know that French fluency was a requisite for flipping burgers. Actually, the terms were even more unfamiliar to me than the above ones. I couldn't remember what the had on the test, so I just googled "french baking terms" to give you guys a taste. I figured out some of the terms since a)3 of my siblings and my mother speak a moderate level of French b)I know a very rudimentary amount of French and c)I know a decent amount of Spanish, so just tried to decipher common Latin routes. My other saving grace was that I'm quite competent with remedial math (of which composed many of the other questions).
Nonetheless, I received a 22/40, not enough to score an interview,
soothing voice lady informed me. But I think she liked me (or they're just hard up for decent applicants) so she said that she could set up an interview for a different position. I was both annoyed and relieved. Annoyed at all the stupid tests, and the fact that I wasted one of my few interview acceptable outfits (if you know me, you know that most of my wardrobe falls into one of three categories 1)casual 2)weird or 3)casual and weird) for a non-interviewing day. Relieved because I still had a prospect in my future.
*Okay, a little more on the subject of lies. Post interview, I found myself in a funny situation. Waiting for my bus, I started wandering around a little, when I found myself inside a gallery. Since I was in my interview clothes, and really examining the pieces, I guess maybe I stood out against the lost looking skinny-jeaned, vans wearing teenagers who wandered in, and left in a flash. The dealer came up to me and asked which ones I liked. I pointed out which ones I liked. She put in her two cents, then kinda probde to see what I liked about them. When I spotted a collaboration (One piece was listed under a certain artist's name, and I said, "This piece really reminds me of Toulouse-Letrac" her eyes lit up and she exclaimed "good eye" before going on to tell me that the two artists actually collaborated on that series, and how they worked closely together). She seemed very excited. Densely, I thought that it was just the excitement of being able to discuss art with someone who's actually reasonably knowledgeable on the subject.
WRONG.
This lady thought that I was rich.
Next thing I know, she's punching away at a calculator, bringing up figures, to show me what a steal different pieces would be with their anniversary discount. Um, sales are great lady, but you need to move the decimal point about three places to the left if you want ME to be able to afford it. And even then! When you're
washing laundry in your tub to save money, buying Dali and Picasso prints are really the last thing on your mind.
Before you lose all respect for me, just know that this is VERY uncharacteristic of me. I played it off like I WAS rich, but being conscientious. "Oh, I'm really not in the market to buy today." When she asked if I was local, I told her that I "reside" in Long Beach. Wtf. Stupid shit just kept pouring out of my mouth. As I was filling out a form with my email address and favorite artists (so she could keep me up to date on upcoming events and sales that I can't afford, very useful) she asked what I did for a living. As I contemplated telling her the truth, I stared intently at the form, as if there was a very important artist at the tip of my tongue (or mind, I guess) that I was trying the squeak out. I decided just to lie. It was nice not getting
treated like a pauper for a change.
I know, I know. I'm so wrong for it. But I didn't feel too bad. I was the only person it there, so it wasn't like I was detracting from real potential sales.
I made up an entire occupation, and she started a discussion on that. My face felt hot, and I just wanted to LEAVE, but she kept reeling me in. I must've been in there a good 45 minutes, before finally just pretending that I had somewhere very important to go.
Oh, and if I didn't seem squirrely enough as is, (I'm a terrible, twitchy liar, part of the reason I generally avoid lying. That, and, a little something called ethics) I had this zit right under my lower lip that very closely resembled a cold sore. Ewww. So for the entire 3-4 days this thing took over my face, I gave people my 3/4 profile when speaking, to avoid feeling their eyes drill into it.
Blabbity, blah, blah, BLEEEEEEEEEH! I'm feeling quite antsy. I just had a cup of my infamous ink black, syrupy-thick coffee. It's hard for me to get the right amount of caffeine. The right amount really does make me feel more alert, productive, creative, and energetic. But just a tad too much, and I feel jittery, frazzeled, cracked out, nervous, anxious, and almost even guilty. Not guilty for having too much caffeine, but physiologically, it feels the same as guilt to me. Anyone else experience this? I've read a few blurbs before from theories by different neuroscientists, psychiatrists, etc. who claim that there are only a set number of pure emotions (primary emotions, shall we call them, akin to the primary colors of red, yellow, and blue) and everything else is just a combination of the primary emotions (secondary, tertiary, etc. emotions, if you will). Interesting, and I can totally see it.
Fast forward. Yesterday I interviewed for another job.
And?
I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
I can't wait. Well, there are still some logistics to be accounted for, so I don't want to get too excited in case things fall through. But, I'm too excited anyway...
Fuck absolute brokeness.
Minimum wage semi-brokeness, here I come!
Yay, yay, yay, YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
P.S. A lady at the job interview office had really bad camel toe. She stood in this really weird arms hanging down and forward like a ragdoll type posture, was all hunched over and had this weird expression on her face. I imagined that she was trying to make her camel toe somehow less intense. When I found out that she was one of the main interviewers, I hoped so hard that I wouldn't get her. How uncomfortable and distracting to be interviewed by her! I lucked out and didn't get her. When I saw this image on
Glorious Nonsense: I simply knew that I had to post it here, so you guys would have a good idea just what kinda trauma I went through having to view it.
