I'm waiting for my coffee to kick in before I really get my day started. I hate coffee. I hate the way it tastes. But I've found that with a lot of ice (and a fair amount of fat-free French vanilla creamer) it doesn't taste like coffee but I still get the coffee drinker's energy boost. Plus, there are no points in coffee or fat-free creamer. Bottoms up.
It's grey outside today and supposed to rain. I love summer storms. But it makes it hard to do much with Mini Bee when it's pouring outside. I don't have much to do today: we're going to lunch with Mom and I have to go to Target and the post office, blah blah blah... My one goal is to track down "Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred." After listening to the testimonial given by my best good friend Libbeth (who has never been one for exercise) and reading the testimonial of Benjamin's mommy (who claims to have zero willpower) I figure the least I can do is give it a try. Especially since it's on sale at Target this week. The other thing I have to do is track down a cute lamp for Mini Bee's room - I decided last night after about breaking my neck, tripping over the fan, that we need a better source of light. Plus I'm only a mediocre diaper-changer in broad daylight - in the dark I tend to put diapers on backwards. Poor Mini Bee.
Kingsley came home from Grandpa Donnie's Doggie Day Camp this weekend. Did I tell you that already? I think I did. But after spending the day with him yesterday I think he's depressed. Or maybe he's just really tired. He spent all day yesterday and all of this morning so far just sleeping. I did take him for a lo-o-o-o-o-ong walk last night; it's a good excuse for me to get out of the house and clear my head. Plus he just loves to walk. One thing he learned at day camp was how to properly walk on a leash, sort of. As long as there are no other dogs, people, kids, bicycles, roller bladers, strollers, cars, motorcycles, trees (do you see where I'm going with this?) within a 50-foot radius of the Pootie on his leash, he's great. The rest of the time I have to keep him reeled in.
Between Pootie and a nearly 14-pound Mini Bee (and Jillian Michaels) I am going to have super buff arms by the end of the summer.
So yesterday I had a job interview. It's hard to judge how those things go. Short of being hired on the spot or being forcibly removed by security, you really have no idea what kind of impression you leave on people. I went to a local Chevrolet dealership to interview for an F&I position. And for those of you that don't know what F&I is, it's the person in the dealership that no one really wants to talk to - it's the person that makes you pay. You either have to hand them a check or hand them your personal information so they can judge your financial history and stability. Either way, the F&I person is never too popular. And they're usually pretty crabby, because they're surrounded by idiot customers that have no idea how the car buying process really works and they're required by management to be at work about 900 hours a week. However, the F&I person generally makes pretty good money which makes being disliked (and a crappy work environment) a little easier.
Anyway, my interview went like this (paraphrased but definitely not embellished for entertainment purposes, of course):
Scene: A sleek, modern car dealership, full of natural light and glass offices - I like to refer to those as people aquariums. Enter Interview Guy, a lifelong slick city car dealer with the hair to match, wearing perfectly pleated khaki pants and a moderate scowl. He greets Superjanel, wearing the only pre-pregnancy pants that (almost) fit, a head-full of massive and unruly curly hair and a big orange Swatch watch. (Hey, love me or leave me, I yam what I yam.) They walk to his particular people aquarium; he ushers her to sit in a straight back wooden chair with leather wrist cuffs attached to the arms while he wanders around his seven acre desk to sit on a throne of silk and satin throw pillows in various jewel tone colors. There is a young woman holding a fern fan and a plate of grapes in the corner and an Irishman in a kilt playing the bagpipes near the window.
Interview Guy: "So why did you leave your last job?"
SuperJanel: "I didn't leave, I escaped. I was a cog in the machine of Giant Conglomerate Bank. I busted outta there, broke outta my chains, took as many people as I could with me, all the while screaming 'This way to freedom! Follow me if you want to be free!' But I kept my parking pass, the bastards. I showed them. WOOT."
Interview Guy: "...?"
SuperJanel: "Okay, so yeah, I had a baby."
Interview Guy: "Um, yeah. That concerns me."
SuperJanel: "Me too. I don't want to work 900 hours a week. I'd like to see my baby from time to time. Plus I get crabby when people expect too much from me. I don't really like people. Or work."
Interview Guy: "Then you don't want this job. And I can tell you that you don't want this other job; you're too smart and you'll get bored. Then you'll just leave and I'll be looking for another employee and that takes time. And my time is the most important thing in the world because I am the most important person in the world."
Interview Guy: "It's actually quite hard being me. I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. I have to have my teeth bleached on a weekly basis and sleep in a tanning bed to maintain this John Bachman-like appearance."
[Note to readers: For those of you not familiar with WHO-TV, the NBC affiliate here in the Des Moines area, John Bachman is a 643-year-old television newsman, pumped full of formaldehyde and kept in a UV light radiation chamber when he's not on the air. He's like a local George Hamilton.]
Interview Guy: "But I can see that you understand being awesome. Your resume, all 14-pages of it, and your references - both of them - speak volumes for your job stability, your intelligence and overall awesomeness. So let me tell you about this other position we have available..."
SuperJanel: [Zoned out, focusing solely on the large piece of lettuce in Interview Guy's teeth and silently agreeing that she is pretty freaking awesome]
Interview Guy: "...Let me get my office manager down here so she can bask in your awesomeness for a few minutes."
SuperJanel: "Let's get this show on the road."
And that's pretty much how it went, sort of. It's not the position I applied for, it's not even the position I interviewed for. But if it's meant to be, it will be. I'm not going to stress over it. I liked the place, I liked the people that I met. I actually went to school with one of the salespeople. ("Wait! ...a minute!") So I'm going to take the "wait and see" approach rather than the "run around like a chicken with my head cut off and my panties in a wad" approach.
Who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear.
Okay. I've obviously been caffeinated. I'm going to go get busy now.