Archive | 6:21 pm

The Job Interview

15 Mar

My eyes burn. They burn with passion for the words that I’m typing right now.

What an arrogant astute thing to say.

When I first became acquainted with the definition of the word “blog,” I began to imagine all the most terrible stereotypes about people who blog: plastic-rimmed glasses, sloppy hair, sweaters, Wilco; also, a firm hatred for all Sylvester Stallone movies and a great passion for the phrase “best___ever!”

But really, this blogging thing isn’t so bad. I figured it would afford me an excellent opportunity to practice informal writing for when I do this….for money. In all likelihood, I’ll look back on this moment five years from now and think of what a great decision it was to start up a blog. It will have afforded me great practice, a good creative outlet, and something to point at in job interviews and say….

“See? This is why you’re not paying me enough.”

“Mr. Irion, we aren’t paying you anything. This is an interview.”

“Yea, an interview in stupidity.” Here is where I lean back smugly and put my feet up on the desk, kicking some stuff over that I didn’t really mean to. I’m visibly embarrassed.

“Ok, that’s enough.” says the interviewer. He’s getting angry. I decide to lighten up the moment with a joke.

“Oh, come on now…” I pause, allowing him to prepare himself for the tidal wave of hilarity coming his way. He does so by blowing his nose. Gross. “I’m just having a good time.” I say. “I mean, why so serious?” Here I smile and make a scary growly face–that means I’m Heath Ledger.

“I…ok, thank you for your time. Please leave.”

I later get the job, and work there for several months before someone comes to my desk and notifies that I’m trespassing, and that the break room is not my office, and the break room table is not my desk. In an attempt to save my job, I make another joke.

“This company deserves a better class of employee, and I’m gonna give it to ’em.” I make my growly Heath Ledger face.

The employee looks at me in awe. The joke was too funny. It’s shut down his prefontal cortex.

“Ok, sir, I’m calling security.”

I try to fire this person.

“You can’t fire me, you’re not my boss. You’re not an employee here! You’re a vagrant!”

“A fragrant vagrant.” I say, winking and smiling smugly. I smell like a veterinarian’s office. I’ve been sleeping in the restroom on the diaper-change table.

I’m escorted from the premises.

I later blog about my experience at work.

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