I'm Living With Beethoven

I had my first real job interview on Wednesday. At 10:00 am I was crammed in a room with 17 other people all fighting for the position to be a telemarketer for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. My job would be have been to call businesses and accuse them of having a "big heart" and sentence them to jail. If they agreed to these charges, one day in March, they would be picked up in a limo paddy wagon, fake handcuffed and brought to "jail" (aka the country club in Willamette) to face a judge. The bail would be set for $2,400 and after raising the required amount of money they would be released. So, my job would have been to call people to ask them to ostensibly become a telemarketer themselves for an hour while wearing an orange jumpsuit and raise money. Needless to say, I am not devastated that I was not hand picked for the job. The reason for being passed over: it's simple, really. I do not thrive in group interviews. Why? Well, because I am mousey. People become loud and vivacious in groups and my squeaky, timid voice just doesn't stand up against the enthusiasm and pointless interjections of others. Or perhaps it could have been when asked what my favorite color was I did not dazzle and shine by emphatically replying some obscure Crayola color. I did not respond with "Tiffany Blue" or "Tennis-Ball Green." Instead, I stuck to plain jane green. Yes, I like the color green. All shades and hues. Not specifically "Jade Green" or "Forest Green." Just green. However! I was awarded a few stars next to my name. Being prepared and doing research on the company counts for something. When asked, "What is Muscular Dystrophy?" Or, "How much does it cost to send one kid to summer camp?" And, "What are the five areas that the money our organization raises goes toward?" I spouted out the answers, albeit softly. I was the red-hot know-it-all. The dull, brainiac (maniac?) in the room.

Please, do not feel too sorry for me. Really, did you read the job description? Better things are to come...

I was hired by Boly:Welch, a prestigious and picky staffing agency. Yes, similar to the previously mentioned Campus Point, but better. Much better. This agency doesn't just accept anyone who turns in a resume. There is a vigorous interview process that includes phone, face-to face with two people and an assortment of computer knowledge tests/grammar tests/and typing tests. Apparently I can type 82 wpm and am proficient with excel (thank you Mr. Burns for the fifteen minute online tutorial) and word. In fact, according to Roxanne, the hiring manager, I am now her "new favorite" and she "loves me." So, hopefully with this boss boost I'll get some good jobs thrown my way. Now, what is my official job title? I am a temp! And it's perfect. Basically I will do day/week/month duration jobs for companies that need me. This work schedules allows me to sample different companies and work environments. I will have my first day of work over and over again. In fact, I can wear the same outfit over and over again too (probably won't though).

Other tidbits: BENTLY URINATED ON MY BOOTS. Yes, that cute Beagle hiked up his hind leg and released his bladder all over my beautiful, leather boots. I am now planning a doggie homicide. The slobbering, reprobate has got to go! A list of Bently's crimes to date: Spreading my garbage throughout my room, habitually; urinating on: MY BOOTS, my jacket (which Tinga was wrongly accused) and my sweater; devouring a Snickers bar on my bed (the chocolate remnants are smeared into my sheets); and hogging the couch. Now what should my method be? Poison chew bone? Bobcat disguised as a house cat?? Bring home a bigger & meaner pup to beat him up?

Better news: Melinda's flight gets in tomorrow!! Starting tomorrow I get a whole week with my best friend! And I think all day today I have had Annie stuck in my head. And some Queen. And, embarrassingly so, my own made up song that basically just repeats the words "Melinda's comin'" with a dance combination thrown in.