get a job (sha na na na, sha na na na na ba-ooh)

So I had a job interview today.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?” you cry. “Don’t you love your job?”

Hell to the no! I don't love my job...I tolerate it. I do like most of the people I work with, the commute is (now) short ‘n’ sweet, and the money isn’t bad, considering that I don’t do a whole hell of a lot. It pays my expenses with a little left over for candy and magazines.

Anyway, in a nutshell, my department is going to go bye-bye at the end of June; they’re farming all our work out to offices in other states. After the bloody (literally), stormy (literally) mess that was our move to California almost five years ago, I vowed that I would never leave California again unless love or obscene quantities of money were involved. So…no transferring out of state for this cozy kitten, which meant I could either look for a job within the company or look for a job somewhere else. I don’t want to be doing this shit for the rest of my life (the occasional celebrity claim aside, insurance is NOT very exciting; color you shocked, I know), but I’d much rather look for something better while still gainfully employed.

So! A job opportunity arose within the company, doing basically the exact same thing I do now, but in a different and much busier department. I turned in an application and waited. Last week, I got an e-mail telling me that I had an interview set up, so I spent Sunday shopping for a business suit.

Yeah, that was fun. I just loooooooooooooooove shopping.

/sarcasm

See, I have a big problem, or rather two big problems…my boobs. Practically every suit jacket I tried on stretched taut across my Minnesota Twins, which would be great if I was auditioning for a role in Anal Office Lady Slutstravaganza, but I wasn’t. Finally, I found one that fit perfectly, aside from being a little loose around the waist and a little long in the sleeves. I didn’t have time to get it tailored, but I figured I could push the sleeves up and look all determined and shit.

This morning, I got dressed and looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked like I wanted to recruit someone to my religion…the Order of Cheap Business Suits.

Ah, fuck it. At least my hair was behaving, and I was pretty sure I had the banter down pat.

So how did I do?

Well, let’s just say I hit a few out of the park, my brain took a massive shit on a couple of questions, and the rest were good but not outstanding. So I guess we’ll just have to see. I’m not going to worry about it, for I am zen, I am mellow.

I’m also really gassy today. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I didn’t play “Taps” on my little brown trumpet during the interview.