Since last we met, I have been rustling around like an orgy of crispy brown leaves in the slithering moonlight of an Autumnal Equinox. I’m always here not There, but when I’m here, my mind is There, my hair is fair, and my stare is bare of emotive flare. Repetitive keyboarding tasks collect their daily toll by allowing me to speed in and out of Carpal Tunnel. Aside from the busy work, I had to prepare for my “Management Trainee” interview which took place at the end of last week, and then I had to actually do the interview.
Feedback on my presentation has been doting and embarrassingly flattering. Sachin’s Big Dawg boss, Fred, told Sachin that he thought my presentation was one of the best, and Jody, the head and shoulders of College Recruiting, told me that the judges thought I was an attractive mixture of comedic, professional, and romantic. She took back the romantic part (OK fine, she never said it) but did say that she thought I had “just the cutest little personality.” I told her if she ever talked down to me like that again she would find herself living on a black fiberboard torture table in the middle of the Gobi desert. Jody happens to be my favorite Chrysler representative, what with a persona that could make an orphaned and clipped-winged titmouse chirp with pleasure.
My interview went exceedingly average. I didn’t really develop a repertoire with any of the ladies that questioned me, but I made them believe what I wanted them to believe. During the first of the two meetings, I was asked what skills I had planned to work on during my time here. I responded, quite quickly, with: my Communication skills, my Organizational skills, and my Political Savvy as it pertains to Office Olympics (Office Politics.) I talked about both communication in the workplace and my adeptness at thrashing my drowning body around the corporate kiddie pool, and wrapped up my thoughts quite nicely. They said “what about the third thing you mentioned.” What thing? Organization? I had totally forgotten what I wanted to say about organization, and the following is what I came up with on the spot: “Well I have a bad habit of being unorganized. So, coming into this summer, I wanted to work on that flaw. So I made myself keep the left side of my work area very neat and organized. I let the right side go wild, papers everywhere, but, again, the left side is very neat. Also, I keep the files on my computer in different, specific folders.”
I slammed my head into the conference room table and prayed for death. The two ladies exchanged glances of incredulity and just flipped to the next page in their book of questions, having just sat through what may come to be known as The Worst Answer Ever Given During an Interview. During the next half hour meeting, the only stupid thing I told my inquisitors was that I have bad handwriting. As you can see, I have a habit of undermining myself when under pressure. I don’t stammer, and I never blush, but I’m not afraid to say “Hey, look at me! I have freckles and bad handwriting and I was born in Vermont.” Enough said.
Monday, August 18, 2008
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