All in a day's work
I got a response to my resume.
Yesterday morning I received an e-mail from the assistant to the CEO of H Texas Magazine inviting me to apply for an editorial position. She said they were looking for a strong editor with "a way with words." How cool is that?
We set up an appointment for this morning at 11. It was all very exciting. I woke up at 3:30 and couldn't get back to sleep for hours. Finally my alarm went off and I got up to shower and beautify (there is nothing natural about beauty.) Then, with the kids off to school it was time for the fateful decision: what to wear.
Mind you, my conversation yesterday with Mom did not inspire confidence. I had already pretty much decided to wear my heeled boots with nice jeans, a simple burgundy button-down shirt and my go-to blazer. The first thing she said when I told her I had an interview was, "For God's sake don't wear your boots! You want to look polished, not sexy!"
Wow. Did my boots make me look like a tramp? I wear them everywhere. Does everyone think I'm a slut? That would explain a lot.
"Mom, I don't own anything that looks polished. I'm broke. I raise kids and I write. Who am I trying to impress?"
"Borrow some money, buy an expensive outfit, keep the tags, and take it back after the interview. People do it all the time."
Um, no. Not this people. "Mom, there is no way I'm going to do that. How can I say I'm trusting God to show me what to do, then steal clothes to get the job?"
Disappointed pause. "I guess you're right. Just do your best." Disappointed sigh.
Wow again.
I wore the jeans and boots and felt pretty good about everything. The office building was easy to find, especially with the giant HCN on the side of it. Never mind that HCN stands for Houston Community Newspapers, which is the owner of the Cleveland Advocate, which I left on kind of suckie terms. I decided it was God's ironic twist.
The office itself was also easy to find. Suite 300. No worries. A sign said to knock on the door, so I did. A slightly exasperated young man in jeans and running shoes opened up. "I have an 11 a.m. appointment with Margaret," I said brightly.
He sighed and did a partial eye roll. "I'll go see if she's around."
That gave me time to kick myself for the 11 a.m. comment. Duh.
I was ushered in, filled out an application, which sucks because my penmanship is somewhat... poor. (Those of you who know me can stop rolling on the floor laughing now.) I was briefly interviewed by the owner/editor-in-chief and then left on my own to edit a piece she'd written the year before. Finally, something I knew I could do. Except it was a real mess. She'd already warned me not to take too long, so I hoped she didn't have an open intercom because expletives were flying as I tried to polish the thing as fast as I could.
Finally, after about 20 minutes, I finished in triumph. It was good. The job sounded exactly like what I love to do and I thought the interview had gone well. Then the lady swept into the room, thanked me curtly and said they would be interviewing all week - if I seemed like the best candidate they would call me in for a second interview. In effect, don't call us, we'll call you.
Even so, my integrity remained intact.
Although I am considering borrowing the money to buy a lawn mower, keeping the tags, doing a few yards for cash, then returning it.
Yesterday morning I received an e-mail from the assistant to the CEO of H Texas Magazine inviting me to apply for an editorial position. She said they were looking for a strong editor with "a way with words." How cool is that?
We set up an appointment for this morning at 11. It was all very exciting. I woke up at 3:30 and couldn't get back to sleep for hours. Finally my alarm went off and I got up to shower and beautify (there is nothing natural about beauty.) Then, with the kids off to school it was time for the fateful decision: what to wear.
Mind you, my conversation yesterday with Mom did not inspire confidence. I had already pretty much decided to wear my heeled boots with nice jeans, a simple burgundy button-down shirt and my go-to blazer. The first thing she said when I told her I had an interview was, "For God's sake don't wear your boots! You want to look polished, not sexy!"
Wow. Did my boots make me look like a tramp? I wear them everywhere. Does everyone think I'm a slut? That would explain a lot.
"Mom, I don't own anything that looks polished. I'm broke. I raise kids and I write. Who am I trying to impress?"
"Borrow some money, buy an expensive outfit, keep the tags, and take it back after the interview. People do it all the time."
Um, no. Not this people. "Mom, there is no way I'm going to do that. How can I say I'm trusting God to show me what to do, then steal clothes to get the job?"
Disappointed pause. "I guess you're right. Just do your best." Disappointed sigh.
Wow again.
I wore the jeans and boots and felt pretty good about everything. The office building was easy to find, especially with the giant HCN on the side of it. Never mind that HCN stands for Houston Community Newspapers, which is the owner of the Cleveland Advocate, which I left on kind of suckie terms. I decided it was God's ironic twist.
The office itself was also easy to find. Suite 300. No worries. A sign said to knock on the door, so I did. A slightly exasperated young man in jeans and running shoes opened up. "I have an 11 a.m. appointment with Margaret," I said brightly.
He sighed and did a partial eye roll. "I'll go see if she's around."
That gave me time to kick myself for the 11 a.m. comment. Duh.
I was ushered in, filled out an application, which sucks because my penmanship is somewhat... poor. (Those of you who know me can stop rolling on the floor laughing now.) I was briefly interviewed by the owner/editor-in-chief and then left on my own to edit a piece she'd written the year before. Finally, something I knew I could do. Except it was a real mess. She'd already warned me not to take too long, so I hoped she didn't have an open intercom because expletives were flying as I tried to polish the thing as fast as I could.
Finally, after about 20 minutes, I finished in triumph. It was good. The job sounded exactly like what I love to do and I thought the interview had gone well. Then the lady swept into the room, thanked me curtly and said they would be interviewing all week - if I seemed like the best candidate they would call me in for a second interview. In effect, don't call us, we'll call you.
Even so, my integrity remained intact.
Although I am considering borrowing the money to buy a lawn mower, keeping the tags, doing a few yards for cash, then returning it.
posted by Cas at 4:39 PM
3 Comments:
Sounds like your cup of tea there Cas. You definitely have a way with words thats for sure! Its what keeps us addicted to your blog and coming back for more and more! Good for you. I hope it all works out!!!
maybe we should write erotica, lots of money in that i hear, besides you've got the boots for it, or so mamma sayz...geeze what is up with old crazy moms ? my mom freaked out in the middle of the hr block office today. decided she did not want that 'man' to do her taxes. wtf mom? did she know this man? had she ever seen this man before ? f-no! today he was just 'that man'. every day is a new adventure. i love you, nic
Cas - hope you get the job - sounds like the perfect fit for you. Watch them tags on lawnmowers - kind of hard to tuck away - lol -
And yeah I hear there is real money in romance and erotica writing - go for it - E :)
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