Lamento
Sigh.
I didn't get my job at Guess in "The Mall". I know to all of you that doesn't seem tragic but seriously in my interview I had the two managers more psyched on me than anyone has ever. EVER. This means probably one of three things went wrong.
1) References:
I always assume someone agreeing to be my reference=shining reference but who knows. The one they would drift towards is my supervisor at the Photo place and thats f'ing two years ago and she was nice and everything but I never got an impression of what she thought of me.
Plus she was very tall. VERY tall. I can't trust a girl that much taller than me who isn't involved in, say, the WNBA. Where does she get off leading a regular life being tall?
2) That stupid fucking test:
You know the one "You accidently get extra merchandise from a vending machine. Do you put the money in to pay for it" or "If you could sneak into a movie and be sure you wouldn't get caught, would you?".
It's a test , I assume, to judge mostly whether you'd steal but partially whether you are a liar. I also assume the two above questions are some sort of control because of course you'd not put money in and of course you'd go to the movies...though I always answer no to the movie one because honestly there's no way I ever feel certain I wont get caught doing something. Plus i'd probably only do that if I was high and dont get me started on how much I think I'll get caught when I'm high.
Regardless I have no idea what you are supposed to say on this test so I'm left with the flimsy choice of...ugh...telling the truth. Job interviews are all about lies. I wish i could lie here. I've tried to look online for somewhere telling you how to ace these but I dont know what they're called so it's been impossible.
3) I couldnt stop staring at the better looking one's cleavage:
I personally think it's unprofessional for you to be interviewing me with fucking 5 buttons undone if you have breasts larger than ohhh an AA. Seriously. But this number had to be asking me all the questions AND be presenting clevage centros (as we scientists say).
I shouldn't hate on her though I suppose, I'm more mad at myself. She was an attractive redhead (weakness) but I should have been able to look past that at her minor flaws like bad teeth and overtanned skin or at least I should have gotten over cleavage which clearly indicated deflated, boring, roll into her armpits when she lies on her back breasts. But no instead I had to costantly think
"Oh god, quick turn to the other one with the scarf thing and make eye contact and nod"
or
"Quick say something incredibly fay so she thinks you were just staring off into space...gay gay space"
I really would have thought the second tactic would have worked though since i was dressed in my colourful cowboy shirt (brokeback shirt if you will), a white tie, tightest jeans i own and my brother's hand worked 80 dollar white italian loafers which come to a point probably 4 inches after my toes end. Plus I was nervous and gesticulating so much Ru Paul would blush.
Hm at least if it was this way it probably meant i was just so darn verile she felt my penetrating masculine gaze even through the haze of metrosexuality. I'll take that
I wanted to work retail though. I long for secretly passing fat people larger sizes than they ask for. Folding things/pretending to fold things because I dont want to help anyone. Talking to wave after wave of attracive people with spurts of the hilariously unattractive (wait, west ed. reverse that). Eating a sandwich on the crappy metal folding chair in the tiny, poorly ventilated backroom. Loving my supervisor and hating my manager (oh and dont get me started on DMs hahaha). Really, I'm sad but this is the kind of path of least resistance job I require/love.
Instead I'll be cleaning up hotel puke until i drown myself in a bucket of Lysol.
The real tragedy though is i'll never get to have this conversation:
"Hey, I heard you got a job, where is it?"
"Guess"
"Oh, I dont know...future shop?"
"No, Guess the clothing store"
"Oh. Ha ha."
I bet that never would have gotten old.
sigh
CAM
Sigh.I didn't get my job at Guess in "The Mall". I know to all of you that doesn't seem tragic but seriously in my interview I had the two managers more psyched on me than anyone has ever. EVER. This means probably one of three things went wrong.
1) References:
I always assume someone agreeing to be my reference=shining reference but who knows. The one they would drift towards is my supervisor at the Photo place and thats f'ing two years ago and she was nice and everything but I never got an impression of what she thought of me.
Plus she was very tall. VERY tall. I can't trust a girl that much taller than me who isn't involved in, say, the WNBA. Where does she get off leading a regular life being tall?
2) That stupid fucking test:
You know the one "You accidently get extra merchandise from a vending machine. Do you put the money in to pay for it" or "If you could sneak into a movie and be sure you wouldn't get caught, would you?".
It's a test , I assume, to judge mostly whether you'd steal but partially whether you are a liar. I also assume the two above questions are some sort of control because of course you'd not put money in and of course you'd go to the movies...though I always answer no to the movie one because honestly there's no way I ever feel certain I wont get caught doing something. Plus i'd probably only do that if I was high and dont get me started on how much I think I'll get caught when I'm high.
Regardless I have no idea what you are supposed to say on this test so I'm left with the flimsy choice of...ugh...telling the truth. Job interviews are all about lies. I wish i could lie here. I've tried to look online for somewhere telling you how to ace these but I dont know what they're called so it's been impossible.
3) I couldnt stop staring at the better looking one's cleavage:
I personally think it's unprofessional for you to be interviewing me with fucking 5 buttons undone if you have breasts larger than ohhh an AA. Seriously. But this number had to be asking me all the questions AND be presenting clevage centros (as we scientists say).
I shouldn't hate on her though I suppose, I'm more mad at myself. She was an attractive redhead (weakness) but I should have been able to look past that at her minor flaws like bad teeth and overtanned skin or at least I should have gotten over cleavage which clearly indicated deflated, boring, roll into her armpits when she lies on her back breasts. But no instead I had to costantly think
"Oh god, quick turn to the other one with the scarf thing and make eye contact and nod"
or
"Quick say something incredibly fay so she thinks you were just staring off into space...gay gay space"
I really would have thought the second tactic would have worked though since i was dressed in my colourful cowboy shirt (brokeback shirt if you will), a white tie, tightest jeans i own and my brother's hand worked 80 dollar white italian loafers which come to a point probably 4 inches after my toes end. Plus I was nervous and gesticulating so much Ru Paul would blush.
Hm at least if it was this way it probably meant i was just so darn verile she felt my penetrating masculine gaze even through the haze of metrosexuality. I'll take that
I wanted to work retail though. I long for secretly passing fat people larger sizes than they ask for. Folding things/pretending to fold things because I dont want to help anyone. Talking to wave after wave of attracive people with spurts of the hilariously unattractive (wait, west ed. reverse that). Eating a sandwich on the crappy metal folding chair in the tiny, poorly ventilated backroom. Loving my supervisor and hating my manager (oh and dont get me started on DMs hahaha). Really, I'm sad but this is the kind of path of least resistance job I require/love.
Instead I'll be cleaning up hotel puke until i drown myself in a bucket of Lysol.
The real tragedy though is i'll never get to have this conversation:
"Hey, I heard you got a job, where is it?"
"Guess"
"Oh, I dont know...future shop?"
"No, Guess the clothing store"
"Oh. Ha ha."
I bet that never would have gotten old.
sigh
CAM
posted by Cam at 12:40 AM
1 Comments:
the next painting i do (after the series of 9 i'm in the middle of, so it'll be 3 years from now) will be of this:
i was dressed in my colourful cowboy shirt (brokeback shirt if you will), a white tie, tightest jeans i own and my brother's hand worked 80 dollar white italian loafers which come to a point probably 4 inches after my toes end
i may also apply glitter to it.
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