no go

I didn’t get the job. I don’t have a real reason why, since they don’t disclose that information, just “the hiring manager has decided not to proceed at this time”. Surprisingly, I’m sort of ok. I’m not nearly as devastated as I thought I would be. I was making jokes with Dave last night that maybe this is a sign that the universe wants me to just stay home and have babies. I think I could handle a barefoot-and-pregnant lifestyle. Well, maybe not barefoot, as I do love me some shoes.

But honestly, somewhere during the interview process I realized that while this is a company that ideally I would love to work for, it’s not necessarily the job that I want. It involved a lot of gray areas that seemed sort of nebulous, and I do much better in a more structured environment (i.e., if you don’t give me a deadline for something, there’s a slim chance that it might get done somewhere between now and the end of time). Also, it would have put me in the very awkward situation of having to occasionally sit in on meetings with Dave’s ex-wife. Not that I really have a problem with that – I’ve never met the woman, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m the winner in the situation because she left, and now I get to keep him. So on some level, I’m sort of grateful to her, but there’s still an underlying “you hurt someone I love, therefore I must rip your spine out via your eye sockets” kind of thing there. So it’s probably for the best that I won’t be working with her.

Anyway, now it’s back to the drawing board. Also known as Monster.

birthday!

No news yet on the job situation, except that my nails are a mess from biting them due to worrying. So instead of listening to me whine, here’s the recap of Dave’s birthday weekend. First, on Friday night, I managed to throw together a semi-surprise party. Nothing huge, just a few friends over at our house for dinner and cake. Hoo lordy, the cake. Back when we did the cake-tasting for our wedding, there was this one cake that Dave absolutely loved. It was a chocolate cake with Bailey’s Irish cream filling. And it was awesome, but I didn’t want a chocolate wedding cake because I had this weird fear that people (meaning: me) would get it stuck in their teeth and then be smiling for photos, and that would be bad. So I told Dave at the time that I would get him one for his birthday. I know he forgot about it, but I didn’t, so I ordered the Bailey’s cake from our wedding cake lady, and I picked it up on Friday afternoon. Here’s the thing: this is the biggest cake I have ever seen in my life. I ordered the one that said it was about 20 servings – thinking, ok, party guests can each have 2 slices, then we’ll have a couple left over for the weekend. Y’all? There is over half a cake still in my fridge – that’s after I hacked off a huge chunk for Dave to take to work with him this morning to distribute among his co-workers – and just the half takes up almost an entire shelf in the fridge. I’m not kidding. I also attempted to make a trifle, which is a dessert that Dave’s mum makes that he loves – I had emailed her to get the recipe so I could make it exactly right. That turned out semi-successful. I should’ve used pound cake as the base instead of angel food cake, because the latter turns into a cakey liquid goo substance when soaked with sherry. As for the sherry, I think I used way too much. Seriously, you can get a really nice buzz from one serving of the stuff. But the rest of the trifle (since the sherry-soaked cake is only the bottom layer of about 5 or 6 layers), it’s pretty good. Oh well, lesson learned for next time – I’ll get it right for Christmas.

Anyway, the party was only a semi-surprise because Dave knew that there was a birthday-related activity going on, but he didn’t know exactly what it was. I made him stay in our bedroom for something like 4 hours while I set everything up downstairs. (I brought him tea and he had DVD’s to watch up there, so it’s not like he suffered.) I just couldn’t figure out any other way to pull it off – if I made him stay away from the house for hours, he would’ve seen people’s cars in the driveway when he got home. But I found out afterward that he sort of knew what was up, because apparently our housekeeper (who speaks poor English) didn’t understand when I asked her to please come early in the day on Friday because I was throwing a surprise party for Dave’s birthday that night. So she got there on Friday morning and said to Dave, “Your wife said I should come early because you’re having a party here tonight.” Goddammit. Oh well, I tried.

Other than that, the weekend was pretty nice and laid-back. I can’t think of anything notable, except that I never got out of my pajamas all day on Saturday. Seriously, I took a shower and put them back on. I think that might be a sign of pending insanity. And now, it’s back to my regularly scheduled nail-biting and waiting for the phone to ring. And compulsively checking my email every 10 to 15 minutes. Fun!

ow, my brain

I survived, although it was a bit of a soul-destroying day (to use Dave’s words). Originally I was supposed to interview with four different people. That seems like a lot, doesn’t it? Yeah, well, I actually interviewed with seven people. That’s right, seven. I was there from 10:00 this morning until 6:30 this evening, and I swear to Jesus Christ Almighty that by the time I left, if one more person had asked me to talk about my background and work experience and why I want to work at [insert company name] one more time, I was going to find the nearest tall building and throw my dry-mouthed, exhausted ass off of it. And the thing is, it sort of felt ok while I was doing it, but then afterward I started thinking of all the things I wished I had said differently, and the answers I gave that might’ve been wrong, and the fact that maybe I’m not qualified for this job (or any job, for that matter – maybe I should just give up and go back to being a receptionist like I did right after college), and yadda yadda, the whole cycle of self-doubt and all that jazz. See “soul-destroying” reference above. Hence my current splitting headache.

So ok, as for the reason why my original 4-person interview turned into a 7-person interview, I figure it means one of two things: either they really liked me and they wanted me to meet as many people on the team as possible. Or, they weren’t sure about me and they wanted more people’s opinions. I sincerely hope it was the former, but I honestly don’t know. In any case, I should know something one way or the other soon. I’m hoping to hear back tomorrow so I don’t have to wait out the weekend, but I think that’s probably overly optimistic. And regardless, this weekend should be preoccupied with birthday-related activities for Dave (which we shall not discuss here, because he reads this, and dammit, he is going to be at least partially surprised), so that should help the time pass a bit faster.

And a special shout-out to Lauren and Angie, because I totally used your questions. I used Angie’s question about “what do you love about your job?” when I was being interviewed by two people on the team who would be peers with me. And I used Lauren’s question about “how would you define success in this role?” with the woman who would be my boss (if I get the job). And Lauren, your track record remains unbroken, because she did indeed say, “Wow, that’s a great question.” I almost laughed out loud.

P.S. About that prior post – I’m not mocking Wiccans by any stretch of the imagination. I have a very dear girlfriend who I absolutely adore who is a Wiccan. She has baby-sat my drunk ass on more than one occasion, and she gave me really great trashy underwear at my bridal shower. So yeah, it’s beyond my own little basic Judeo-Christian grasp, but hey, if it works for some people, that’s cool too.

terrified

The in-person interview for the job that’s perfect for me? It’s tomorrow. I am sick with anxiety. I want it so badly, and I’m going to be absolutely broken-hearted if I don’t get it. So please-please-please send prayers, positive thoughts, voodoo chants, wiccan… um (what do wiccans do? Sprinkle fairy dust while dancing naked by moonlight? I don’t care, just bring it on!), and whatever else you got for me, because I’m going to need it tomorrow.

I could've danced all night (or at least until 1 a.m.)

Saturday marked a very big first in Dave’s and my relationship: we went dancing. I have to preface this by explaining that this is not his idea of a good time at all. But, it was our friend Janet’s birthday, and she organized this whole drinks/dessert/dancing thing, so that’s what we did. I had talked Dave into it by promising that I would drive so he could drink all he wanted, and that he wouldn’t have to dance at all. And really, if he had just played pool with his friends, and if it had just been the girls out on the floor shakin’ our respective groove thangs, I would’ve been perfectly happy. It had been forever since the last time I was in a dance club, and I was very excited just to be out that late on a Saturday night. (Seriously, y’all, we are so boring, we’re usually asleep by 10:00.) But anyway, two of Dave’s buddies were also there, and they were both doing the “white man’s overbite” with their wives, and I guess Dave had just enough to drink that he was able to ditch his neuroses and loosen up, and he danced with me! For like, a really long time! In public! It was so awesome. And really, I don’t know what his hang-up is, because he isn’t a bad dancer at all. We stayed out until around 1:00 in the morning, and it was so much fun. I had a great time.

Speaking of birthdays, Dave’s is a week from today (September 19th), so mark your calendars now.

Work news: that phone interview that went really well last week? Apparently they want me for an in-person interview, which is a good sign, but I haven’t heard back from the HR recruiter lady who’s supposed to tell me exactly when this interview is going to be. So that’s annoying, because I’m really anxious about it since THIS IS ONLY THE EXACTLY PERFECT JOB FOR ME.

More hurricane horribleness: my cousin was on the news again, this time not speaking, but there’s an interview with my cousin-in-law’s father (Dr. CILF, remember?). It’s a story about a nursing home that didn’t get evacuated, and well over half of the residents were killed, and it’s absolutely tragic, much like everything else about this damn hurricane.

more news and stuff

So that cousin whose story I said should be on the news but probably won’t be? Well, it turns out, he is on the news. Video and all. His interview is just a short snippet that’s mostly talking about the general disaster itself, rather than about his experience in getting there, but whatever. There he is. Good grief.

In job news, I’ve had a couple of phone interviews this week, which may be promising. There was one yesterday, which I think went really well, and the job is basically perfect for me, but I’m scared to get my hopes up so we’ll just wait and see how that turns out. And then the one I had today was for a job that I’m almost positive I don’t want, but I suppose that every interview is practice for the next one. Or something like that.

But yeah, that phone interview yesterday? I really, really want that job. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Also, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to keep track of all the movies I’ve watched and books I’ve read over the past couple of weeks (and in the coming ones), and write a little summary when I’m finished with this phase of unemployment. As for the movies, I will say this: a few nights ago, I started to watch “Titanic” when it came on one of our movie channels. I’m not sure why, I never really liked the movie all that much (only saw it once; I thought the true-to-life stuff was cool but the whole love story was kind of cheesy and silly), but Kate Winslet is gorgeous and her costumes (those amazing beaded gowns) are awesome, and I was just sort of spaced out and not really paying attention. I watched it until the boat hit the iceberg, which is when it occurred to me: a real-life historic disaster where the rich people were immediately shuttled to safety and the poor people were left to die. Hmmm. Perhaps that’s just a bit too appropriate right now. I’m not sure if the programming people thought of that connection themselves, or if it was just a coincidence. I immediately turned it off and went to bed, but I couldn’t get the damn movie out of my head and it kept me awake for hours. Bleah.

Last bit on current events: The Daily Show is finally back on the air (they were off all last week), and Jon Stewart’s summary of the hurricane, and the government’s failure of a response, was just awesome. You can go see it here.

more hurricane stories about my family

Here’s one of those stories that should be on the news, but probably won’t be. Ok, first we have my cousin, who I’ll call “Mr. Used to be an arrogant jerk in dire need of an ass-kicking, but I hear that becoming a father this year has magically transformed him into a compassionate human being with an actual soul, but I haven’t seen him in 2 years so I’m withholding judgment for now.” Actually, that’s a pretty long nickname, so I think I’ll just call him my cousin. I’m sure that the few family members who read this have NO idea who I’m talking about. (And if certain other relatives read this, I might get in trouble, but you know, calling him an arrogant jerk in dire need of an ass-kicking is nothing that I wouldn’t have called him to his face. So really, no big deal.) Anyway, he’s a doctor now, doing his residency (I think?) in North Carolina. He’s from St. Bernard Parish, one of the outlying areas of New Orleans that has been severely flooded because of the hurricane. He also married a girl from that area, whose father is (go figure) a doctor. (Yes, it’s a theme. Go with it.) So I guess that makes him my cousin-in-law’s father? Anyway, Dr. CILF, as we’ll call him, being a responsible citizen, evacuated his family from the area. A couple of them went to NC to stay with my cousin and his wife, but Dr. CILF had to stay behind because he’s a family doctor in addition to being the St. Bernard Parish coroner. And sadly, in situations like this, there’s usually a high demand for coroners.

So, Dr. CILF was able to talk to his family as the hurricane was passing through – I believe it was on Monday morning – and he told them that the water was coming into the hospital, all the way up to the second floor. Problem: it’s only a two-story hospital. Then they didn’t hear from him for a few days, because communication to and from that area was essentially wiped out. Naturally, his wife (my cousin-in-law’s mother, or Mrs. CILM) was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because she had no idea where her husband was or if he was ok, etc. My cousin and cousin-in-law were both upset and worried as well. Finally, on Friday morning, he was able to get through to them. Apparently, he evacuated the hospital and set up a temporary shop at the parish jail (of all places), and since they had no food or water, the nurses and docs were giving each other IV’s so they wouldn’t dehydrate and pass out. He’s usually a very stoic kind of guy, but apparently he was quite emotional when he finally managed to talk to his family. My cousin, the doctor, asked if he needed some help – probably expecting him to say “oh no, everything’s under control, you just stay put” – and instead, Dr. CILF told him that would be good.

So my cousin, along with one of his fellow doctors from the hospital in North Carolina, loaded up with supplies and prepared to set off to Louisiana, only there’s no easy way to get in or out of the area. So he found a friend who had a small plane, and he flew them from North Carolina to Lafayette, Louisiana. They were told that they couldn’t take a boat into the area, because odds were high that they’d get shot at. My mom used the term pirates, but I think I’d call them boat-jackers. As opposed to car-jackers. I mean, if you don’t have a boat, but you need a boat, and you have a gun and you see someone who has a boat, why not work that to your advantage? Not that I’m advocating that sort of behavior at all, just that I think I understand where the desparation comes from. I’m certainly not saying that the people who do this kind of thing aren’t assholes, because they are. Anyway, they’re stuck with the dilemma of how to get the two traveling doctors out of Lafayette and into the area. So my uncle, who works for an oil company (and let’s face it, their Louisiana branch isn’t doing much of anything these days since all of the offshore oil rigs are shut down) called in a favor and managed to get them a helicopter ride straight into St. Bernard Parish. They arrived safe & sound at the makeshift hospital/former jail yesterday afternoon. No idea of how long they’ll be there, but I imagine that if you’re from that area, and you have the ability to help people, it would make you feel much better to be there and do what you can.

So ok, maybe he’s not such an arrogant jerk in dire need of an ass-kicking. Although I certainly don’t envy his wife, alone in North Carolina with a 6 month-old baby, I still think it’s pretty damn heroic that he’s doing this.

And while I’m bragging on my family: my little brother, who lives in Houston, is planning to volunteer at the Astrodome this week. He doesn’t really have any specialized skills or training for these types of events (much like the rest of us), and he’s broke, so he can’t donate much, but he’s willing to give his time. So he can hand out food and water and whatever else they need down there, and I’m damn proud of him for that, too.