I awoke to a rumbling stomach. Why did I think it was okay to eat soy yogurt that expired the 29th of June 2006 the night before an interview? Luckily, nothing ever came of it.
My first suit and it is 85 degrees outside. I tried several shirts. All of my shirts. Why is it so difficult to make a shirt look good under a jacket and why didn't I figure this out yesterday? Without permission I ventured into the closet of the roommate, all the while Lily looking at me like I should not be in there. This is Lori Jean's room. These are Lori Jean's shirts. I ignored her and began to shuffle. I tried one on and it was certainly better than my previous tries in my own closet so I tucked it in, grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. I came back, grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door. I came back, grabbed my sunglasses and rushed out the door. Typical.
The drive there was me and the shins, trying to figure out my weaknesses and silently articulating why I want to teach high school. I arrived too early and sat in the parking lot as long as I could take the heat all the while frantically searching my car for a writing utensil. Alas, I came across a sticky mechanical pencil wedged between the seats and a blue pen that refused to release a drop of ink. I shoved the pencil in my bag, retucked in my shirt and put on the black jacket. Did I mention is was 85 degrees? I sat seemingly patiently in the waiting room and made sure my right hand was open and free to evaporatively cool so it would be relatively dry when I shook his hand.
He did not look me in the eyes until we were sitting directly across from each other at the narrow table. I immediately snapped something off of my pencil and quickly made a move to tuck the errant plastic piece in my jacket pocket. That pocket was, of course, fake so I moved it to the pants pocket. He heard the snap and watched for me to panic. Instead, I kept a calm look on my face like it was a stupid place to put a piece of plastic in the first place and of course it is going to break off. Like a lady, I folded my hands in my lap. The next time I found myself fondling the pencil like a crack addict I folded my hands on the table, mirroring him, which made me feel far too close. He did not ask about my weaknesses which was great because I still did not have any I was willing to tell him about and he did not ask why I wanted to teach.
On the way home I stopped to purchase antiperspirant for the first time in 9 years. The Tom's of Maine just isn't going to cut it this week. Especially if I keep stealing other people's shirts.
My first suit and it is 85 degrees outside. I tried several shirts. All of my shirts. Why is it so difficult to make a shirt look good under a jacket and why didn't I figure this out yesterday? Without permission I ventured into the closet of the roommate, all the while Lily looking at me like I should not be in there. This is Lori Jean's room. These are Lori Jean's shirts. I ignored her and began to shuffle. I tried one on and it was certainly better than my previous tries in my own closet so I tucked it in, grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. I came back, grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door. I came back, grabbed my sunglasses and rushed out the door. Typical.
The drive there was me and the shins, trying to figure out my weaknesses and silently articulating why I want to teach high school. I arrived too early and sat in the parking lot as long as I could take the heat all the while frantically searching my car for a writing utensil. Alas, I came across a sticky mechanical pencil wedged between the seats and a blue pen that refused to release a drop of ink. I shoved the pencil in my bag, retucked in my shirt and put on the black jacket. Did I mention is was 85 degrees? I sat seemingly patiently in the waiting room and made sure my right hand was open and free to evaporatively cool so it would be relatively dry when I shook his hand.
He did not look me in the eyes until we were sitting directly across from each other at the narrow table. I immediately snapped something off of my pencil and quickly made a move to tuck the errant plastic piece in my jacket pocket. That pocket was, of course, fake so I moved it to the pants pocket. He heard the snap and watched for me to panic. Instead, I kept a calm look on my face like it was a stupid place to put a piece of plastic in the first place and of course it is going to break off. Like a lady, I folded my hands in my lap. The next time I found myself fondling the pencil like a crack addict I folded my hands on the table, mirroring him, which made me feel far too close. He did not ask about my weaknesses which was great because I still did not have any I was willing to tell him about and he did not ask why I wanted to teach.
On the way home I stopped to purchase antiperspirant for the first time in 9 years. The Tom's of Maine just isn't going to cut it this week. Especially if I keep stealing other people's shirts.
2 comments:
good call on the deodorant...you want to make a lasting impression in their minds, not their nostrils
i still think you should be a writer. and nobody would have to smell you.
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