The drowned rat might just get the job. August 21, 2007

I just came back from an interview.  
 
I was soaking wet when I got there, I am still soaking wet now that I’m back at the desk of my current job. 
 
It’s apparently November in New York. It’s cold and wet and have I mentioned COLD and WET because I just can’t seem to emphasize just how cold and god damn wet it is. 
 
Nothing like showing up for an interview for a job you want more than, oh, ANY OTHER JOB looking like a drowned rat. Yup, nothing inspires confidence quite like that. 
 
So everyone who knows and loves me and therefore has to put up with my neuroses (hi M, hi Dad, hi Roommate, hi Molly) knows that I’ve been freaking out about this interview for a few days. As in, last night I was curled in the fetal position unable to speak, that’s how nervous I was about doing well on this interview. I didn’t even eat dinner! Me! No dinner! When I don’t eat, you know it’s bad. 
 
But all that freaking out was (hopefully) for nothing, because the interview rocked. I kind of want my hopefully-soon-to-be-new-boss to be my best friend. Once we got all the boring stuff (past experience, what the job entails, etc) out of the way, we ended up talking about our engagement rings and our weddings and how we’re both on diets and how we both used to be 20 pounds skinnier before we took jobs that made us eat too much to deal with the stress. She even gave me a hug at the end of the interview.  
 
Seriously, if this whole her-giving-me-a-job thing doesn’t work out, I may just call her to get some drinks.  
 
But I think it’s going to work out. I hate putting that out there because that gives the universe license to fuck around and say “think again, Clink! SUCKA!” or something but I got a good feeling. Could have something to do with the fact that she said she really liked me and wanted to hire me. However, she does have a few more interviews and I’m afraid that one of those people might blow her away even more than I did.  
 
And then I will cry and drink lots of wine and then cry some more because FUCK I want this job. If you knew what the job was, you would know why. Dammit, sometimes I feel like throwing anonymity to the wind and just telling you guys because, seriously, hi, DREAM JOB FOR CLINK.