Interview Season

I had my first official interview for a graduate program Friday (in case you were wondering, yes, I am always going to be this vague about what type of program it is. It’s a personal safety measure. All I need is for one of these schools to find this blog during the admissions process. I’m sure they’d just love to know that I swear like a sailor and write about my boobs about 10 out of every 15 posts).

I had realized the night before that I was wearing a brown shirt and had no brown shoe (yes singular shoe, frickin’ boot of neverending obnoxiousity) and while I tried and successfully managed to drag Slappy to DSW (shoe Mecca) at 8:50pm (they close at 9), they were sadly closed already because it was New Year’s Day, and even shoe Mecca takes a holiday. So that was a great start.

I also stopped by Ralph’s (it’s a grocery store for non-west coasters) to pick up a pair of panty hose because I like to be as uncomfortable as possible during interviews. You can imagine my horror when I found that the exact same brand I buy in New Orleans for 4 dollars, were SEVEN dollars. I choked to death and then ponied up the dough for them because, well, what choice did I have?

The next morning, I showered, beautified (it takes a lot of time) and got dressed and then the very first thing I did was accidentally velco my boot to my SEVEN dollar panty hose, rendering them barely wearable for my interview but completely unwearable any other time. That was seven dollars directly thrown down the drain. I also ended up wearing a black shoe because the shoe that Slappy’s mother graciously (I’m being serious) loaned me was just too small. I couldn’t walk at all, so black shoe with brown suit. NICE.

Then I got to the interview and parked and nervously waited because I was like 20 minutes early. I was in the midst of a text messaging conversation with Daisy when a security guard came up.

Him: Ma’am, are you going to park here?
Me: Um, yes, if I can (I couldn’t tell if it was public parking or reserved parking)
Him: Well, you can, but only if you park within the lines of one of the spaces you’re in.
Me: Oh. Right.

I looked and realized that I was literally parked in the middle of two spaces. Like not just slightly over a line, I was right in the middle. Again, NICE. And all the more shocking that I’d backed into a car just a few short days earlier. Driving skills, I has them.

Eventually I went in and had a lovely interview. That one is an extremely small program, but the woman I interviewed with said that she believed that they would be offering me a spot, which will be interesting since I’ll now have to make a choice instead of having a single option here (should we be moving there, obviously).

I have another interview Tuesday, another in 10 days after that and two more the following weekend. So the way I figure that’s about 4 pairs of panty hose and probably all my dignity, right down the drain. Kind of like the yeast infection treatment ovule I shot down the toilet the same night of the interview. I should’ve just thrown a twenty dollar bill in and flushed it. Seriously.

I’m getting really good at this throwing money away thing. I mean, realistically, I have a lifetime to continue practicing, but I seem to be perfecting the art already.

But anyway, let the interview season begin. And, um, improve please.

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Welcome!
I'm Katie, a 30-year-old, wife, mom, former teacher-turned PT, who also had brain surgery in November of 2007. This blog chronicles my daily life, from mundane to crazy, often with far too much detail. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
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