Archive | 4:32 pm

Job Interview III: Blood on the Steel

10 Sep

I had my third job interview Wednesday. The interview was with a hotel in Denton which, due to an advertising agreement with Motel 6, cannot be named here.

I'm not good enough for THEM

"Better than most motels, but you should still consider bringing your own sheets."™

Before my interview, I try on my outfit so Derek can tell me if it fits the label “business casual.”

“So what do you think?” I hold out my arms and do a small spin.

“Yea, I’d say that’s business-casual.”

“Would you say it’s business-casual-sexy?

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

I start to talk again, but Derek just stares straight ahead, shaming me into silence. After a moment, I find the courage.

“I like these slacks, but it feels like they’re missing something.”

“They look fine, Kyle. They’re just slacks.”

“I don’t know, man.” I say, looking them over.

“What do you think is missing?”

“Crotch hole.” I say.

“Crotch hole.” Derek says.

“Crotch hole.”

“Crotch hole?”

“Crotch hole.”

“Crotch hole?”

“Yea. A hole for my stuff to poke out. Show ’em what I got.” I gesture toward the location of my stuff.

“Why would you ever think that that would be appropriate? Have you ever seen anyone–outside of a strip club–wear clothing that exposes their genitals? Remember those old movies in high school about doing interviews? They never wore anything close to what you’re proposing here. Try it my way just this once. I want you to succeed. Trust me. No crotch hole. Please.”

I think about this for some time and decide that Derek has only my best in mind. No crotch hole.

The hotel is large and proud. It’s like if Taft were a hotel.

I meet with a woman named…God, I can’t remember. I think it was like–Ashley or Mary or something like that. Let’s say her name was Ashry.

[Editor’s Note: Her name was Natalie.]

[Kyle’s Note: How the hell do you know?]

[Editor’s Note: Because roughly six minutes after the interview started you texted me and said “Mngr is named Natalie. More like FATalie. jk. Gonna bang her.” Then like ten minutes later,  “Wanna mini golf?”]

[Kyle’s Note: Ah, that’s right. Mini golf was fun, though.]

[Editor’s Note: We didn’t go mini golfing, Kyle.]

[Kyle’s Note: I went alone. It was fun. How could it have possibly been any fun if you were there?]

[Editor’s Note: *Sigh* Of course.]

Natalie and I shake hands. The chemistry is electric if not flatulent. She takes me to the restaurant portion of the hotel and we sit at a small table by the window.

“Well, Kyle, let’s look at your application. Says here under ‘Why do you want to work for us?’ you put ‘So I could see a monkey.’ Would you like to explain that?”

“Natalie, I consider myself a cine-phile. I love movies. One of my favorite movies is a quaint little documentary on the hospitality industry called ‘Dunston Checks In.’ It’s about a majestically-comical ape who creates all kinds of fun mayhem for the staff. I can only assume something like this is commonplace in your line of work.”

“Mr. Irion, that wasn’t a documentary.”

“Yes it was,” I say.

“Jason Alexander was in it.”


“I think he played the concierge. He’s an actor. He played George Costanza on Seinfeld,” she says. For a moment I’m speechless.

“That’s an interesting theory. I’ll check the forums after we’re done shootin’ the shit here.” I waggle my finger between us to signify the “shooting of shit.” I then get my phone out to text Editor. He’s funny. I’m just kidding. I’m the funny one.

“Mr. Irion, could you please put the phone away?” I look up at her and laugh heartily. This confuses her just enough to give me time to put my phone away without having to apologize. I’m like a magician.

“Next question,” I say. She shuffles a few papers and then looks over my application. She seems completely put off. Worrying that the interview is taking a turn for the worse, I begin tearing a hole in the crotch of my pants.

She takes another look at my application. “You’ve graduated? That’s excellent!” I release my pants and look up at her.

“Yea? You know it’s only an English degree, right?” I ask.

“Well, yes. It says it right here. That’s a fine degree!”

“You know we already speak English? I got a degree in that. It’s like getting a degree in Jar Opening.”

“Well sometimes I need help from my husband to open jars.” She says, smiling. I sigh deeply and nod, more to move the conversation along than to agree with anything she said. “OK, what would you say your greatest weakness is?” She asks.

“Fire.” I say, staring straight ahead.

She cocks her head slightly. “Fire? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Fire melts my skin. It’s really hot. I’m weak against fire. Looking at you I’d guess you’re a water type, so you’re weak against electric types.”

“Are…y…I’m sorry, what?”

“Pokémon. Read a book. Next question.”

“All right. What are your greatest strengths?”

“This job. This job is my greatest strength.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hired.” I take my application, write ‘hired :)’ on it and leave. I walk out of the hotel, doing my signature Magic Hand Wave™ as the automatic doors open. I swing one leg over my motorcycle when Natalie reaches me. She keeps her distance, though. A man like me is hot, red hot–too hot to touch.

“Kyle! You can’t! I have so many more questions!” She pleads.

“You may have a million questions, but I only got one answer for ya, darling.” She stands still, expectantly. “And that answer,” I lean forward, “is yes.” I throw the bike into gear and ride away. Soon the roar of my engine sounds like nothing more than distant thunder, but Natalie remains waiting. Waiting for me to return.

I hope there are medical benefits.

How I’ve Spent My Day

10 Sep

First things first:

I’m still in my underwear.

Second things second:

Fuck you for judging me.


So Tired.

10 Sep

You ever get sleepy? You ever get tired? So do murderers.

Reality Check.

Good night.

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