After a 3 day working interview, and then NOT getting the job, I am left with some questions as to what I could have done differently. I've had a few thoughts as to what may have turned you off, and I'd like to run them past you, if it's not too much trouble.
Was it because I made you all friendship bracelets and then informed you that if you are to remove them before the knot wears out naturally, that something terrible will happen? I was sure to mention that it may not necessarily happen to you, and might simply affect your elderly aunt whom you've offered your home to. I thought that would soften the blow and was a little surprised that you were not more accepting of my gift.
Was it on the second day, when I stole all your shoes and continued to insist that the shoe stash in my bottom desk drawer was, in fact, mine? Yes, I alleged I wore a men's size 14, but it was only because I didn't want you to underestimate me. I, doubtless, should not have thrown the shoes at each of you after being accused of fibbing. However, nobody likes being called a liar, especially when caught in the middle of a lie. Don't act like you have never found yourself in the same position.
I admit, I should not have bit Shirly, the secretary who's worked with you for 30 years. But Shirly shouldn't have used my stapler! You'd think after 30 years she'd know a little bit about office etiquette.
And I definitely should not have bit you after you pried my jaws off of Shirly's collar bone, but you should really know not to get in the middle of a biting match.
I concede, I should not have urinated in my cubicle. But I was concerned you were going to bite me back and I panicked just a little bit. We've all been there.
When you asked me to step into your office for "a word," I truly did believe that playing dead was my best course of action. It was not an act of stubbornness or an inability to work as a team player, which I fear you may have inferred from the situation. It was just pure instinct. On my resume, I expressed that I can "adapt readily to any situation," and I think this should be viewed as an example of that quality.
Lastly, when you managed to carry my body into your office to give me my check for time worked, maybe I should not have sprung up, clapped my hands at you and then threw them above my head in an effort to appear larger than you. But, all due respect, you should not have behaved in such a hostile manner.
I appreciate that you are keeping my resume on file. For what it's worth, getting in a biting match, stealing shoes, and still finding time to make all those friendship bracelets, is an excellent example of my superb time-management skills and also demonstrates my ability to multi-task.
Thank you for your time. I look forward to speaking with you further about employment opportunities within your firm.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Valentines Day
I'd like to take you to Belize. And not just because that's where The Bachelor was this week, but because it's beautiful and you deserve that. I would like to whisk you away to somewhere new and tropical. You can walk around in your sandals (and socks, probably), and I'll smile at you and shake my head, but I wouldn't change anything.
I'd like to be on a long train ride with you, in a private sleeper cabin, or a diner cabin with our backgammon set laid out in front of us, while snow-capped mountains rise and fall past the windows. We would clink our glasses, then each lean out over the game and kiss, cementing that moment forever. And then I'd roll double sixes and destroy you!! You'd challenge me to another game, but no Hetchy, no. I like to quit when I'm ahead.
I'd like to be in a cabin with you, by the ocean. It would be so secluded, there would be no internet or tv, just a wall of games and our conversation. We'd spend our days wandering the beach, with the dog of course, leaving our tracks side by side in the golden lit sand. The tracks would tell how we slowed down, probably to watch the sun set and kissed, and maybe the footprints would even tell how we held hands the entire time. What the tracks couldn't possibly tell is how you made rude gestures with your other hand, and I pretended to hate it, but was actually spastically delighted by your audacity.
I'd like to be in a romantically lit room with you, where everyone is slow dancing, and we'll meet eyes and hop right in. But we'll spin too fast, and I might get dizzy, but it's ok, love. Just a little slower, maybe? But too late! A fast song has started and you lead me to a chair and then break into the Running Man. I slump in my seat and hope there's no way I can possibly be linked to the crazy man who has just broken into the Lawn Sprinkler, but then I start laughing. You're so damned funny when you dance, and I know you're doing it just for me. So I join in and show you Feeding the Chickens again, because that's a crowd-pleaser.
I get all those vacation pamphlets mailed to me so I can continue to add to the list of places I'd like to take you, and they all look wonderful. But they don't show in their booklets pictures of what it would really be like. How I'll poke at your ticklish back as you try to fall asleep, just because I love the sound of your laugh. You'll hold my hands and beg me to stop, but when I plead, "just one more?" you'll actually let me!
There's no pictures of me dropping my book in the ocean and kicking at the dastardly waves, or of us in an endless search for the last place you put your phone, but that's what the reality would be. You and me, Hetch, we're not the perfect romantic couple shown in all the pictures. We would try our hardest, I'd even buy white linen dresses that would flow in the breeze, but then I'd spill a v8 on the damn thing. And you, you would probably trip and stub your toe as we walked along the beach, hand in hand, and then have to limp to the nearest cabana.
We will be rumpled, tipsy, and too loud, whether it's in Belize, or on a train. And our stained clothes and wind-blown hair won't be making it into any pamphlets.
And, Hetch? I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Valentines Day, my love.
I'd like to be on a long train ride with you, in a private sleeper cabin, or a diner cabin with our backgammon set laid out in front of us, while snow-capped mountains rise and fall past the windows. We would clink our glasses, then each lean out over the game and kiss, cementing that moment forever. And then I'd roll double sixes and destroy you!! You'd challenge me to another game, but no Hetchy, no. I like to quit when I'm ahead.
I'd like to be in a cabin with you, by the ocean. It would be so secluded, there would be no internet or tv, just a wall of games and our conversation. We'd spend our days wandering the beach, with the dog of course, leaving our tracks side by side in the golden lit sand. The tracks would tell how we slowed down, probably to watch the sun set and kissed, and maybe the footprints would even tell how we held hands the entire time. What the tracks couldn't possibly tell is how you made rude gestures with your other hand, and I pretended to hate it, but was actually spastically delighted by your audacity.
I'd like to be in a romantically lit room with you, where everyone is slow dancing, and we'll meet eyes and hop right in. But we'll spin too fast, and I might get dizzy, but it's ok, love. Just a little slower, maybe? But too late! A fast song has started and you lead me to a chair and then break into the Running Man. I slump in my seat and hope there's no way I can possibly be linked to the crazy man who has just broken into the Lawn Sprinkler, but then I start laughing. You're so damned funny when you dance, and I know you're doing it just for me. So I join in and show you Feeding the Chickens again, because that's a crowd-pleaser.
 |
| "What do you mean where's your phone?" |
There's no pictures of me dropping my book in the ocean and kicking at the dastardly waves, or of us in an endless search for the last place you put your phone, but that's what the reality would be. You and me, Hetch, we're not the perfect romantic couple shown in all the pictures. We would try our hardest, I'd even buy white linen dresses that would flow in the breeze, but then I'd spill a v8 on the damn thing. And you, you would probably trip and stub your toe as we walked along the beach, hand in hand, and then have to limp to the nearest cabana.
We will be rumpled, tipsy, and too loud, whether it's in Belize, or on a train. And our stained clothes and wind-blown hair won't be making it into any pamphlets.
And, Hetch? I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Valentines Day, my love.
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