Game Time!

The silver lining in all this drama was that that same week I was invited to interview with a really great company for a really great job.

The phone interview I'd had when I'd had to blow off the call from the school principal about Hil's elevator privileges had apparently liked me as much as I'd liked her and I had landed an interview. Yay me!

Too bad I had to take my inferior Wimp Mobile with its mojo shriveling whammy effects. I'd have to listen to some music on the way that makes me feel like Wonder Woman, the Bionic Woman, Charlie's Angels, Murphy Brown, and that pain in the ass from Moonlighting all rolled into one.  Maybe then I'd be able to forget that I have no ability to shame someone off the road with my car on my way from any Point A to any other Point B. And that Alpha Dog feeling is important in an interview situation.

I do my homework. I know my metrics. My befores and afters (as in "before I inherited this broken department we had a 15% vacancy rate and after I established a new team and new procedures, we have a vacancy rate of 8%, which is well below the national average").  I could talk about specific instances where I leveraged technology to make a faster, leaner operation and repurposed the extra employees (Why are we printing and filing all of these files when the system and the vendor warehouse them electronically for two years beyond the timeframe required by law? Please empty those file cabinets into the confidential shredding bins and I'll think of something meaningful for Bitsy and Tonya to do now that they won't be wasting 8 hours a day doing THAT!).  I could relate how I identified and analyzed a particular problem and steps I took to rectify it.  ("Geez, this question here on our application is discriminatory and prohibited by law. Please strike it, send the revised version to the printer, and confidentially shred every pound of evidence that we've been in violation of Federal Law for the last two years. I'll call Legal and fess up.")  Or note a specific conversation in which I'd had to speak to someone directly about their conduct or performance ("Pam, when you were approached by our colleague Bob today as you walked a candidate to the Lab for an interview, and he asked you a simple question, do you think there might have been a better way to handle the so-called intrusion than to have screeched, "What the f***, Bob? Can't you see I'm busy? Send me an e-mail, for Chrissake!")

I am ready for anything.

Except I'm not.

The progressive company I am so anxious to join isn't so progressive when I get inside. Paper, paper everywhere and boxes when the file cabinets won't close from the volume.

And just like you can tell a lot about a man from his shoes, you can tell a lot about a company by its phones. I think Mary Tyler Moore used the one at the reception desk when she worked for Mr. Grant.

I am in a gorgeous perfectly pressed, lint-free suit with perfect hair and jewelry and killer heels. I have entered a polyester farm. And they've obviously purchased the nudie panty hose in bulk.

The place needs a paint job. And new carpet. And this is the human resources department where they are supposed to be rolling out the red carpet. Not looking like they can't afford to hire you.

My car didn't crush my mojo. It was strangled when I sat down in the lobby.