![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeToday has been a day of days.
To start out with, I had an interview at 1pm (not the super secret one) in Moorestown. I had Mapquested the directions, I knew the general area, everything seemed fine. Right?
To get to this location, I have to make two very specific turns. However, NEITHER of these turns were marked. Most importantly, the first one wasn't. So, I wound up driving all the way to fucking Cinnaminson before realising I was no where near where I needed to be. I stop at a gas station to pee, because I was beginning to really feel the two giant mugs of tea I had drank before I left.
I doubled back, stopped at another gas station, asked for help, and was given vague-ish directions on how to get to where I needed to go. I tried to call home, in case the interviewer had called (because I was now late), but the pay phone didn't work. I could hear my mom, but she couldn't hear me.
I get on the first important road and begin my travel anew. However, the second important road doesn't appear to be marked, either. Eh?! I drive up and down that road, which is one way mind you. Double back again down a different road and finally (and accidentially) spot the road I need to be on. It is now 1:45. My appointment was at 1.
The numbers on the businesses seemed to be corresponding with where I needed to be, however there is no 505 (which is my desired location). I drive up and down this road slowly, peering carefully at the numbers. Nope. No 505. And if there were a 505, it would be in a little strip of stores. Which is not where I need to be.
Frig.
I stop at yet another gas station and ask them if they know where 505 is. And obviously, this place of business is in an alternate reality, because the pump jockey informs me that THERE IS NO 505.
Okay. Now I've had it.
It's 2:15, my second (and more desired) appointment is at 3. If I kept this shit up and somehow managed to find this place, the interview itself would make me late for my second interview. So, I decide to turn around and head back in the general vicinity of my second appointment (which I completely and definitely know where it is located).
On the way, I stop at ANOTHER gas station to try to call my mother again. But, they have no phone. ugh. I make a mental note for the billionth time in my life that I need to get a call phone and then search out a little store that has a payphone out front. Call my mom, who tells me that my interviewer called the apartment four times. We decide that she's to call him back, let him know what's going on, and I will call him when I get home.
The second interview went fabulously, I must say. They seemed to really like me and were impressed by my skills. I also was able to enjoy filling out a rather interesting job application. "Does the sight of blood make you faint or feel nauesous?"
heh.
It was decided by the one interviewer (there were two ladies), that I would be terribly successful at and enjoy a specific position which was actually not the one I was applying for. Something along the lines of 'research associate'. HUZZAH! She wants me to meet with the CEO for a definite second interview, but has to check his schedule. So, I'll be getting a call on Monday or Tuesday to set one up.
Both ladies seemed very pleased with the answers I was giving them and it would appear that we had an actual rapport going on. The hours would be intense (definite overtime every week) and the pay is lower then I was asking, but I told them I am incredibly flexible and that I wouldn't mind working for lower pay because of the opportunity this job would present and how I feel about the field it is in.
I walked out of there feeling quite grinny and better about the interview then I have ever felt about any previous one I had ever been on. SEND ME GOOD JU-JU, I WANT THIS JOB LIKE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD.
I'm attempting to not jinx myself with this, but I really did get a different feeling from this then I have before.
I came home to my Miskatonic University t-shirt, which had finally arrived in the mail. And a phone call from Mister Kyle *(my freelance employer) saying that the girl he had hired for typing out the corrected white pages is rather slow. By saying 'rather slow', I'm actually implying that paint dries faster then this girl cranks out type. He wants me to time myself on a test run of one page and if it's satisfactory, then he is 'willing to pay me a lot of money to do it.'
hee!
Later on this evening, I decided that I am in desperate need of an airhorn.
To start out with, I had an interview at 1pm (not the super secret one) in Moorestown. I had Mapquested the directions, I knew the general area, everything seemed fine. Right?
To get to this location, I have to make two very specific turns. However, NEITHER of these turns were marked. Most importantly, the first one wasn't. So, I wound up driving all the way to fucking Cinnaminson before realising I was no where near where I needed to be. I stop at a gas station to pee, because I was beginning to really feel the two giant mugs of tea I had drank before I left.
I doubled back, stopped at another gas station, asked for help, and was given vague-ish directions on how to get to where I needed to go. I tried to call home, in case the interviewer had called (because I was now late), but the pay phone didn't work. I could hear my mom, but she couldn't hear me.
I get on the first important road and begin my travel anew. However, the second important road doesn't appear to be marked, either. Eh?! I drive up and down that road, which is one way mind you. Double back again down a different road and finally (and accidentially) spot the road I need to be on. It is now 1:45. My appointment was at 1.
The numbers on the businesses seemed to be corresponding with where I needed to be, however there is no 505 (which is my desired location). I drive up and down this road slowly, peering carefully at the numbers. Nope. No 505. And if there were a 505, it would be in a little strip of stores. Which is not where I need to be.
Frig.
I stop at yet another gas station and ask them if they know where 505 is. And obviously, this place of business is in an alternate reality, because the pump jockey informs me that THERE IS NO 505.
Okay. Now I've had it.
It's 2:15, my second (and more desired) appointment is at 3. If I kept this shit up and somehow managed to find this place, the interview itself would make me late for my second interview. So, I decide to turn around and head back in the general vicinity of my second appointment (which I completely and definitely know where it is located).
On the way, I stop at ANOTHER gas station to try to call my mother again. But, they have no phone. ugh. I make a mental note for the billionth time in my life that I need to get a call phone and then search out a little store that has a payphone out front. Call my mom, who tells me that my interviewer called the apartment four times. We decide that she's to call him back, let him know what's going on, and I will call him when I get home.
The second interview went fabulously, I must say. They seemed to really like me and were impressed by my skills. I also was able to enjoy filling out a rather interesting job application. "Does the sight of blood make you faint or feel nauesous?"
heh.
It was decided by the one interviewer (there were two ladies), that I would be terribly successful at and enjoy a specific position which was actually not the one I was applying for. Something along the lines of 'research associate'. HUZZAH! She wants me to meet with the CEO for a definite second interview, but has to check his schedule. So, I'll be getting a call on Monday or Tuesday to set one up.
Both ladies seemed very pleased with the answers I was giving them and it would appear that we had an actual rapport going on. The hours would be intense (definite overtime every week) and the pay is lower then I was asking, but I told them I am incredibly flexible and that I wouldn't mind working for lower pay because of the opportunity this job would present and how I feel about the field it is in.
I walked out of there feeling quite grinny and better about the interview then I have ever felt about any previous one I had ever been on. SEND ME GOOD JU-JU, I WANT THIS JOB LIKE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD.
I'm attempting to not jinx myself with this, but I really did get a different feeling from this then I have before.
I came home to my Miskatonic University t-shirt, which had finally arrived in the mail. And a phone call from Mister Kyle *(my freelance employer) saying that the girl he had hired for typing out the corrected white pages is rather slow. By saying 'rather slow', I'm actually implying that paint dries faster then this girl cranks out type. He wants me to time myself on a test run of one page and if it's satisfactory, then he is 'willing to pay me a lot of money to do it.'
hee!
Later on this evening, I decided that I am in desperate need of an airhorn.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-12 10:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-12 10:48 pm (UTC)*happy monkey dance*
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-12 10:56 pm (UTC)And in the mean time..
CLICK
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-13 08:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-13 10:37 am (UTC)*hug*
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-15 11:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-15 11:56 pm (UTC)