it's been the weirdest thing.
i had a job interview on tuesday. and this is not one of those, "im only taking this because i need a paycheck" kinds of job. this is a job that would sorta crank the ADHD (with emphasis on the H) meter to full throttle, causing me to run around my apartment in circles like a retarded excited child. yeah I want it. i want it like i want an IV of black label permanently stuck in my arm.
on the day of my interview, my phone vibrated uncontrollably at 9am. i thought about taking off my sleep mask to at least look in it's direction, but decided to just roll over and go back to sleep. such are the benefits of the unemployed. an hour later, i decided to actually grace the pre-noon day with my presence and check my voice mail.
it was the agency. the cd was sick and had to cancel. damn. damn. damnit to hell. but could i call them back?
"i know this is a little weird," the creative manager said. "but since CD can't see you today, do you think you could just come in and freelance?"
"but" don’t say it don't say it. don't say it. "you guys haven't even seen my book yet." shouldn't have said it.
"that's ok." what?
"CD fell in love with the email you sent us. i mean, really. he showed it to everyone in the office. so we think you'll be fine. you'll have your interview when you're done"
hired from an email. 2 days of freelance. before an interview. for a job i really want like i want a black label IV permanently stuck in my arm. no pressure. none at all. who's got xanex?
but something happened. montage gods took over. my previous job anxiety? it went as mysteriously as it came. i just swallowed it and worked. and worked. and ignored noise, ADHD tendencies, and i went home. and i felt good. and only got six hours sleep. and that was okay. the next day i didn't even get coffee till almost noon. cause i wasn't tired. i was overcome by pure montagelike motivation. ah, the things we will do for scotch.
"oh and by the way," the AE says as i'm leaving on the second day, "you just made yourself look really good. thank you for saving our asses."
so i went to my interview this morning, convinced i had it. certain of my success. wondering if the nurse who would insert my IV would be male instead of female. and if so, would he be hot?
"i've been talking to a few people" says CD "yourself included, to get some new people in here. we're putting a few teams together in the next few weeks."
guess i'm looking at more miserably sober days.
now a normal, non-overachieving, non xanex needing, (seriously, who's got some?) individual might look at this situation positively. good email. good freelance. and they're hiring several people. it still seems good right? maybe to you. but I KNOW that no matter what kind of praise i receive from anyone working there, all it takes is for the CD to think, "eh, her book wasn't as great as i thought it woud be." or someone else to walk in with something better. and then i'm still stuck here. with that same goddamn stupid kanye west song playing in the background.
and now, sitting here, typing away in my empty shoebox, i just realized the rican's been out of town for 3 days. hm, didn't even notice. maybe that's because i've been so busy NOT BEING MISERABLE. maybe clios (if i ever fucking get the chance to work for any) might keep a girl warm at night after all.