Oh dear G*d, if you exist, why are you not providing me with a sign before I show up at interviews that are going to make me feel like I need to shower even though I never feel that way? In the Almighty's defense, yesterday I was provided with multiple signs not to make this appointment. The weather was horrific, my hair did not look good, I cried in therapy and I was suffering from an over caffeinated eye twitch. Additionally, prior to printing out my impressive resume , through a new dealer (permanent employee), I by accident sent it to the head of the legal department who rejected me without me even indicating I was applying for any specific position. By the by, head of the legal department, I am well aware that I do not have the qualifications to work in house counsel at a huge publishing conglomerate. You needn't tell me, but perhaps you should worry for my soul. This discussion will be saved for another day. Despite all these spiritual indications, I figured given the state of the economy, I am in no place to pay attention to signals from the higher powers when accepting/declining an interview.
Yesterday, I believe I reached a new low. Well that is not true. My station in life is neither improving or declining, it is pretty static. That is not to say that I am content as we all know that is not the case. However, I suppose the jolt of attending an interview with yet another sh*thole after not having the opportunity to do so in several months shook my sensibilities.
My initial reaction when the nice partner lady who was balding was to just be polite and try not to stare at her head while she was explaining to me the odds and ends, mainly odds, of this "practice." I am okay with a balding man, but a balding woman for me is problematic especially since I know there is an answer: hair extensions. M got some when I was five after making the transition out of her wig. I have yet to notice, well that is not true, she often sheds her extensions in the household and then puts them in a Ziploc bag. Kind of gross, but by far better than the legal balding eagle. However, eagle head was really not the problem. The problem was her partner, sloth.
Sloth (completely disgusting and foul old creature) had really something coming to him, and if I were in my usual state (hooked up to an IV of pinot grigio), Sloth might have gotten lucky. However, this was supposed to be an interview for F*ck's sake AND this firm handles sexual harassment. Ladies, I have recently started the birth control and some other assortment of heavy duty drugs after M noticed a pimple on my jaw line. While I have never been anything but, well, just slender, I may have a full B cup. Apparently Sloth liked them and I am not going to lie, it felt good to be admired before 4AM. Sloth admitted that a) he does not read at all and b) he did really poorly in law school (Touro). Just when we were hitting it off, Sloth asked me a question, one that I am never prepared to answer especially during this courtship period; "C, I know it was awhile ago, but can you tell me what your LSATs scores were?"
There were a couple of moments of silence in which I evaluated my choices. I could a) totally lie b) tell the truth or c) tell a white lie. I went with C, but for the love of Christ, what business does Sloth head have asking ME MY LSAT scores? I imagine his were in the low teens and making even my odious score look look good. Last time I checked, lawyers who scored above a 120 do not sit in a firm that looks like the inside of a microwave. Anyhow, after I answered, Sloth ended the the date/interview and told me it was very nice meeting me. I did not even get the chance to ask him what his were.
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