hey liz.

soooooooooo, i had an interview yesterday.

posh advertising company. totally not my scene. if it weren't for the "no experience necessary" and the "non-profit organizations" they promote.

so i roll on up to baltimore for a preliminary. i walk in the room and start to chit chat with the guy at the reception desk. mention how gross and humid it is. talk about how i wish i could be wearing jeans. i even cussed in front of this guy.

i sit down in a waiting room with what looks like a young republicans meeting. powersuits and stilletos out the ass. greasy ponytails, pulled back tight at the base of their neck (parted on the side, of course). leather briefcases oozing with resumes and references and pseudo important paperwork.

and me... with my frizzy hair, borrowed skirt, tame heels, simple black short-sleeved shirt covered in cat hair, my biker messenger bag and my neon blue plastic folder containing nothing put my resume.

so i sit there trying to bullshit with a tom cruise look-a-like and some overly aggressive bitch from Pitt. it doesn't work. i make jokes about the stuffy environment and say that i should have gone for the warehouse job instead, all the while making eyecontact with reception guy.

i sit there for an hour. watching all of the just graduated big shot kids file in and out of the back office. but receptionist guy is gone. lunch break, i guess.

imagine my (lack of) surprise when karma showed her face. i'm called back into another office to lock eyes with who? yeah. receptionist guy. HE'S doing the interviews.

"Please... call me Liz."
"Lemme guess, you don't like Elizabeth."
"No, I do... I just have that automatic 'i'm in trouble' reaction whenever someone calls me that."

i was blushing so hard at that moment words cannot express the heat coming from my face. ick sweaty hands. quick! rub them off on your skirt before the handshake!!

ugh. at this point i figure that i have blown any shot i had. so decide to just put away my game and try not to combust from embarrassment and lack of professionalism.

i make a joke about how badly i need health insurance. and about how the only reason i even considered this job was because of the non-profits. he mentioned some of their other clients like NASCAR and i almost fall out of my chair laughing because my roommates would shit themselves if i get to work with the hotties. Jamie McMurry much? ::insert hot fantasy here::

focus, liz.

"tonight from 5-7 we will be calling 3 or 4 people back for all day training interviews."

i think to myself that there are over 30 people comin through. this is his pity coming out to let me know i was not going to be picked.

i tell him my best quality is my openness. second best is my creativity and energy. i don't want to be behind a cubicle. i want to be working with people.

he asks me if i mind travel. HA! mind????

i get up to leave.

"good luck with everything if i don't hear from you."
"thank you, liz."

exit. stage left.

i try to distract myself from the rest of the afternoon at the starbux in colombia i am applying to. the manager and i clicked well. explained that i was waiting on a few leads, but that i'd love to work some part time opening shifts. she was all about it.

at least something good came of the day.

i went home, ate. watched singles. damnit i need to stop romantic comedies. seriously. they are NOT good for my heart. make a tennis date with a few friends for 7pm.

sit and try to pretend i'm not waiting for the phone to ring.

5pm.

5:15pm.

5:30pm.

5:32pm.

nothing.

i get up. start coloring with crayons (i'll post pix real soon). i got lost in the picture, because at 6pm when the phone rang i almost didn't get up to see who it was. i usually don't even bother with the house phone.

after the longest 30 seconds of my life, it clicks that MAYBE i would want to take a look.

"Hi Liz."

"Heh. Thanks for remembering."

"Congratulations."