Why, you ask? Because I had to do something today that I absolutely detest. The thought alone brings about waves of terror and physical sweats the depths that I’ve never known before. To quote my own recent facebook post “I have a job interview next Tuesday. My expectations are complete over-thought, physical illness and disgusting overcompensation, followed by verbal vomit and the eventual rejection e-mail.”
Yea, it was kinda like that. But wait! There’s more!
After booking that interview, I quickly booked another interview for an hour later. Holy snap! Now I seriously have to bring my A-game. As in, mentally prepare and make myself look and sound presentable for not one, but TWO interviews.
I spend DAYS deciding on my outfit; how should I wear my hair, up in a French roll or the usual lose and crazy? Simple make-up or something dramatic? Casual flats or professional high heels? Glasses or contacts? Blazer with some bling or the expected black?
Jeebus, the choices alone are enough to confuse Lindsey Lohan standing in front of a liquor store.
So here I go, driving from Aurora to Rosemont to Schaumburg like a bitch on wheels, high on nothing but Starbucks coffee and a granola bar.
Dear Chicago traffic: Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.
She didn’t, and I looked great. I had my big girl panties on, my make-up looked disgustingly amazing and I killed them with my experience and brilliant smile. Now it’s just one big waiting game. I hate waiting games. I’m an instant gratification kinda gal.
This is all I have to offer right now. If that isn’t enough, then I’ll take my big girl britches somewhere else. Preferably in yoga pants, comfortably resting on a cushy chair in my home office while wearing flip-flops.
Namaste. And shit.
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