Tag Archives: job interviews

I Must Be Life’s Best Kept Secret

Source: Wikimedia Commons - White House Photo Office
Source: Wikimedia Commons – White House Photo Office

Anybody glancing at my resume would surely think I’ve been one busy little beaver-bee (that’s like double more busy than anything else) who never stops working. I guess you can say that I am. One project after another, one task, one mandate, a never ending quest. Or something like that.

“I do not know anyone who has got to the top without hard work. That is the recipe.”
–Margaret Thatcher

I don’t even ask for the top. I don’t expect huge wages. I’m lucky to live a life with a minimal amount of overhead. I’m like a puppy, pet my head once in a while and talk happyspeak to me and I’ll forever be loyal to you.

I’ll seek out what needs to be done, and do it without ever mumbling that it’s not my job. I’ll say I’m sorry when I know I was wrong, and own up to my errors so I can take responsibility and do what needs to be done to fix them. I’ll have relentless energy, so much so that you’ll ask me or even beg me to sit down and take it easy. I won’t back down from a challenge, heck I’m crazy enough to believe that with just the right amount of determination anything can be done… by me.

If I don’t know how to do it, I’ll learn it. If I don’t want to do it, I’ll find a way to make it appealing, and enjoy it.

I have many addictions. Seeking out cool new jobs on Craigslist is one of them.

Eating marshmallows and feeling their cool texture on my tongue is an addiction that I should keep to myself.

Recently I’ve been invited to 2 job interviews thanks to the wonderful world of Craigslist. Yay me! I was so elated I could hear the trumpets. Actually I did hear them, but that was coming from the marines on their morning jog. Sound carries so well on water, and why do they run at 6:30 am with a trumpeteer hot on their trail is something I’ll never understand.

Interview # 1 – She called me and scheduled a phone pre-interview. At the end of the pre-interview she announced I made it to the next level – a face-to-face meeting. She told me to expect an email with the specific location. The email never came in, so I emailed her. The email bounced back as undeliverable. I left her voicemail. Nada. Emailed the company directly from their site, and that too was undeliverable. Sigh.

Interview # 2 – They replied via email, in all honesty it looked sketchy. But I was so blinded by my sheer utter joy at the possibility of earning my keep I immediately replied with the requested information. As I did so, my little voice was shrieking “what the fuck” since all the info they asked was on my resume. Blind I was. The next morning the CEO himself of this multi-billion $ operation congratulated me on being hired. A series of whatthefuckisms quickly followed. He told me to expect an HR form to fill so they could pay me. Hence the series of whatthefuckisms.

Of course I immediately expedited the process by sending them my social security number, my date of birth, a scan of my fingerprints, my passport and all my bank account passwords.

I didn’t want to take any chances, I needed to seal the deal.

What is wrong with people? What’s next? Will they drive around in their tacky Cadillacs throwing buckets of poop on the homeless? If so, where do they get their buckets of poop?

Red Rover

She rubbed her palms against her thighs in anticipation of the challenge. 1

Her heartbeat increased, and her forehead showed beads of sweat. She smiled, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt such joy, such rush, such exhilaration.

She wasn’t the last one to be called over, but she felt it was her turn. Maybe it was the way the leader looked at her for an extra beat, or maybe it was the way her little sister jumped after their last huddle. Or maybe it was just that little tingling feeling she always got when something great was about to happen.

“RED ROVER, RED ROVER, WE CALL JESSICA OVER!” they all chanted.

She sprung into action, making a direct line for Lizzie, her kid sister. She was the weakest link on the team. With but five feet to go, she shot off to her right. Her last second change of course threw them off guard. The look of surprise in Joey’s face betrayed him. She knew she’d made the right choice by heading straight into the strongest boy on the team. With ease she crossed his clutching hand. Triumphant, she returned to her team.

The receptionist’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, brought the receiver to her ear, she nodded and looked at Jessica. “Yes, I’ll bring her right over,” she answered, and hung up. She stood up and turned toward her “They’re ready for you,” she said. She made her way around, “Let me take you to them.”

That same tingling feeling came back to Jessie, the one that allowed her to break through the strongest links. She stood up, and smiled at the receptionist. She winked, “It’s ok, I can show myself in,” she said. She straightened her skirt, picked up her bright red satchel, and thanked her for the glass of water.

Red Rover, Red Rover, I’m coming right over she chanted to herself. She walked with her head held high, and entered the interview room knowing she was going to nail this one.

1 Quote from Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey

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Master Class BadgeThe pulled quote was the writing challenge chosen by Eric Storch. Link here to join this week’s Master Class.

Have I mentioned that I started working a little over a month ago?

It’ll be a Cold Day in… Paradise

My world wind trip to join the racing crew was shortened by a job interview in San Diego. I flew home to California the night before the meeting with my hopefully future employer. I woke up early enough to crawl through the bush to my trailer (stored at my friends’ where I was temporarily staying).

  • The three numbers to the combo lock popped in my head as soon as I woke up. I took it as a sign.
  • I opened the trailer door, was immediately faced with a crate titled “MARIE’S CLOTHES” I opened it, on the top was a dress perfect for meeting my future boss. The last time I wore it was for my dad’s funeral, because I performed a stellar eulogy wearing that dress I felt it carried good karma. I took it as a sign.
  • I rummaged elsewhere for shoes, couldn’t find any that would go with the cute little black dress. Found my black blazer that topped off the dress instead. I took it as a sign.
  • On my way downtown, I stopped at Target, and rushed to the shoe section. Women’s shoes were either ballet flats, or so high I would need a ladder to climb into them. I took a gamble and walked through the kids’ section, and found the perfect wedge sandals matching my outfit. I took it as a sign.
  • She said I could try my luck with street parking, if not then to pay the high priced ACE parking. Just as I made my way around I found a spot on the street immediately in front of the door. I took it as a sign.
  • The parking was paid via machine, credit cards accepted. The machine in front of my spot was broken, the nearest one was one street down. I chose to ignore that sign.

The job interview went remarkably well, so well that I started scouring Craigslist for a room to rent in the posh little district of Little Italy. She said she had another week’s worth of interviews, but that I should know within a week. Or so. You know how it goes.

During that week of waiting I worked my butt off for the San Diego IndieFest. It was amazing.

Sidenote: My heart truly belongs in a festival. The music, the art, the people, the weirdos, the happy noise – it fills me, tickles me, satiates me, and every other amazing quality or adjective or verb or adverb or whatever it is that I’m listing, it does it to me. And for me. Sigh.

Sadly the people did not come out and fill the fenced-in grass area. But that’s for another story.

One full week and two days after my interview – I was still without any news on the job. The writing was on the wall, but I hate reading walls. The courage failed me to call her, so I emailed her. Her reply was short. The hiring process was under review, the creation of the new job was also under review. They may, or may not reopen the position in a few months. I was more than welcomed to try again, if and when it re-opened.

My heart was shattered. This sad news joined another even more heartbreaking bit of news in the same day. It was too much to handle, so I went to the beach.

I wrote about my short excursion at the beach. It healed my heart. It healed my everything that needed healing. Except for my bank account. It’s still bleeding. Leo suggested we return to the boat, and the heat. He promised me an air conditioner.

He followed through with that promise, and now I sleep with a blanket and nights filled with dreams thanks to that delicious level of REM sleep.

Where Do I Start?

The beast of burden.
The beast of burden.

I know, you’ll tell me to start at the beginning. But this story, you see, has no beginning. Not that I can think of, at least.

It’s been a crazy week. That at least I know. Monday, of last week, I left my cosy little floating casa in Mexico to join my husband in lovely Iowa. Sigh. Double long sigh. He was racing, the year’s biggest race ever was coming up (The Knoxville 410 Nationals) and they needed my help. So I flew out there and helped the boys out.

Unloaded a dozen of these things!
Unloaded a dozen of these things!

The Nationals are a 4-night racing extravaganza. Something like 110 cars show up to compete. The 2 first nights split the field in two for qualifying nights. Basically on both these nights it’s like a full program with qualifying laps, heats and then prelim divisions leading to an A main. I’ll spare you the details to let you know that we did everything we could to make the driver fail miserably, but he won.

In the heat, he was leading for the entire 12 laps, with less than one lap to go the motor dies. He finished in the necessary top 4th to secure his spot in the A main. We were thrilled, yet we knew we needed to change the motor. On any given night, the team works right out of the 53′ trailer directly in the pits. On this night, the night of nights, the biggest race of the year: the teams are forced to unload.

Unloading. This term is equivalent to root canal for sprint car racers. You must unload all your gear, parts, tires, wheels, spare motor, and the kitchen sink into the pits. All trailers must leave the area by 5 pm. It’s also known as clusterfuck.

The first thing we did when we knew what had gone wrong was hunt down a tow-truck. We needed something to hoist the 300-pound broken pile of smoking aluminum out of the frame so we could then lift a better and healthier version into the empty spot.

The crew chief was prepping the new motor when somebody (my husband) looked at the motor, and said “This won’t fit.” Can I throw you another sidebar? I love sidebars!

The motor has its established motor mounts. This bolts into the motor plate in front of the driver. The motor plate needs holes where the motor mounts are located. One would think that each motor has the same motor mounts. One who thinks that would be wrong. The spare motor had an entirely different pattern. It would not, indeed, fit into the car.

With our friendly tow truck guys, and lady (she rocked) the crew chief raced off to the outside parking area to obtain a motor that would fit. Are you aware of the stress level at these events? And then inflate said stress level for the biggest race of the year (not sure if I’ve mentioned it or not, that this was that biggest thing?)

Blah blah blah, he miraculously makes it back in time, we bolt the new motor in the car, and fire it off to make sure it’s all cool. Or hot. Or whatever. Luckily there were enough cars for a C main, and then a B main before our A main. Guess what happened with less than one lap to go? We ran out of fuel due to the many re-starts. And then we won. Yay. We crawled on the front stretch and puttered under the checkered, but thanks to the distance he’d maintained with the 2nd, 3rd (and so on) cars he was first to cross that flag!

That put us pretty high in points for the final night. We started 7th. Among the 110 or so teams that is pretty sweet. And then do you know what happened? With less than 2 laps into the BIGGEST RACE of the year, our motor (the new one, or kinda new) broke. It broke!

Hero to zero.

And now? During all these crazy sweat filled days of turning wrenches I was invited to a JOB INTERVIEW! Sunday, the day after that big race thing, I flew out to San Diego. Did the interview Monday morning, and now I wait.

p.s. Our driver is now forced to sit out some races, he’s ill. Hope he didn’t catch what’s running through his motors!