What, Me Worry?

Forgive me if I seem a bit scattered, but I’m afraid I don’t have time for overly wordy stories about past crimes and deep dark secrets today. Important things are happening in my life right now. Critical, life-altering things. Tomorrow, I have an interview. Not just any interview, mind you. This is an eight-hour interview with twelve different people.

When the recruiter emailed me my interview schedule, I had to do a double take. Twelve people? Eight hours? I rushed back to my files to see if I accidentally submitted my resume for the position of CEO. Nope – strictly middle management material. So what could I possibly need to talk to twelve different people about? I mean, I have the ability to lay on the charm, but even on my best day I’ve only been able to win over eight people, and I’m pretty sure that alcohol was involved.

How am I going to stay fresh and dapper in my blue pin-striped suit for eight hours? I wonder if it would be appropriate for me to bake brownies for everyone. Can I maybe bring some protein bars and Gatorade to get me over the mid-morning hump?

This is a big day for me, not just because I desperately want this job, but because this is the first time in the past three months that I will have spent eight hours in the same location.

Stay-at-home-moms-without-children can’t be tied down like that. Listen, I need my freedom – I know why the caged bird sings, and it ain’t because she’s happy. I worry that my attention span has rapidly declined during my three months of unemployment. What if I start to zone out around 2:00pm since that’s usually when I walk down to the coffee shop for a decaf iced skim latte?

I don’t even know twelve people. I don’t have twelve friends, not even twelve relatives. I’m not sure I ever want to know twelve people. How will I remember who’s who? What elaborate mnemonic devices will I need to employ so I don’t call them by the wrong name?

Okay, so I’m meeting with:
Janet from IS. Janet. Rhymes with planet. Janet Planet works with computers. Computers take over the planet in I, Robot. Good – really good!
Zachary from Marketing. Zachary. Zachary. Zachary whack a flea. Flea collar rhymes with dollar. Marketing earns dollars. Zachary – works in Marketing!
Andrea from Sales. Andrea. Schmandrea. Filandrea. Hand me a… okay, I’ve got nothing. Andrea has brown hair. Let’s hope that sticks.

I’m a visual person, so maybe I could draw a quick stick figure of each of them to help me remember what they look like. Would that be unprofessional? What if I sketched the drawings under the desk? Asked them to smile for a quick Polaroid?

I’m even interviewing over lunch. Great. So now I have to worry about what to say, what to wear, and what to eat. Throw in the good night kiss dilemma and you’ll have every first date I’ve ever been on. Just stay away from the spinach quiche, Jenny, whatever you do. And the garlic chicken.

All right – I need to start prepping for this interview. If I don’t post a blog for a few days, it may mean that I have completely cracked from the dangerous levels of human interaction. I mean, you should really ease someone like me back into the workplace. Don’t just go throwing twelve people at me all at once. I might get angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.


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