The Interview

I had my 2nd interview at Big Brothers/Sisters. I really don't want the job, but I'm scratching to get out of foster care, so i'll do about anything...or so i thought. The position at BBBS, is basically a telephone position. I would have to sit in a grey cubicle all day and call the mentors and the families to see how everything is going. BORING. it's not a media job, i so don't want it. but it's also not social work. so i want it. sorta. I was surprised that they called me for a second interview. After waiting twenty minutes, this middle aged, black woman appeared. I got a shitty vibe from her as soon as I saw her. She looked me up and down and did not look interested and she was SUPER GHETTO, yawning and rubbing her face and eyes during the interview. I guess she was not impressed. At my first interview, they asked questions like, what's your weakness. Now, I couldn't say "being late, sleeping at my desk, singing U2 songs in a high pitched voice, and just overall not being interested." So, in a very sincere voice, I said that I have trouble forgiving people that disappoint me. Especially when I enlisted help with a special project, say a PowerPoint presentation. (Wasn't that a good answer -- putting that theatre degree to use!) Now keep in mind I never volunteer to work on anything special, being at work is work enough, and the only thing that I know about PowerPoint is to press 'Esc' once your finished laughing at people's ghetto wedding/prom pictures. I guess that comment was included in my "interview file," cause this yawning heifer so nuf asked me about my made up weakness.

yawning and rubbing eyes Lady: So you hold a grudge? Every time you look at me, you will think, that's the woman that made me wait twenty minutes? yawn

hands folded, slit smile Me: No, this is business. This is a place of business, I would not hold that against you, however I will remember that you asked me that question.

playing with hair Lady: Ha. Ha. That's a good answer.

Bitch.

But for all her unprofessionalism, I will say she made a stunning statement that woke me up.

looking out the window Lady: Why do you jump around from job to job? looking me dead in the eye How come you have not been able to find something and stick with it? I mean what's the point of working one year here and one year there?

slightly stuttering Me: Umm, this job, umm, although not straight social services, is still serving the community in a critical way. silence. waiting for her the say something, or at least look out the window. her eyes are on me. And I think that communicating with all parties involved is a really good idea to keep the flow of communication going.

Huh?

After my bumbling mess, I kinda of stop listening to her. I was stuck on her statement. Why have I spent my 20s jumping from one unsatisfying job to another? Easy money. I can do my job with my eyes closed (often do) but the aggravation just isn't worth it anymore. Now I wish I can bravely declare "So I'm quitting my job!" But I can't. I need the money. And health benefits. I would love to devote all my time working on films and television shows building up my resume, but I can't. I can't afford to do that. But I can look for and apply to entry level television jobs. So that is what I decided to do. Don't get me wrong, I am still looking for a job to rescue me from social work, but I am going to break the cycle of working for third rate social service agencies. I've had it. So I've made a decision. I'm going to withdraw my application at BBBS. Drowsy and itchy eyes is right, what's the point?

Feeling Alive

I told everyone that I was going to blog about my experiences working as a PA on American Idol...true to kristin form, i'm just now getting around to it. in a word, it was amazing. the first day after i got home, i felt awake. even after working 18.5 hours. i felt awake. I was awake. The spirit that lies dormant inside of me actually had a fire under her. The light switch was turned on. Someone was home.


The experiences...well I learned that like theatre, television is extremely competitive. I would be assigned a job, turn to tie my shoe, turn around, and see someone else doing it. WTF!!?!? There were these little gangs that ran together. Notice I did not say cliques. Cliques aren't as menacing as these people. These mo fos were gangs. They would steal shit like scissors and pens so you would not be able to use them. But I got smart about it. On day one, Monday, we were at the Wachovia Center with 20,000 aspiring Idols. There was much to do, and i was dutifully attending to my job of passing out and collecting consent forms. No problem right? Well after about four hours of passing the consent forms out, it was time to collect them from the sections. I look out, and see a gang of four doing the job. I was confused. I did not want to dare bother the EPs (executive producers,) or the guy that hired me, who i was developing a major crush on (of course.) So I stayed up on the upper levels and sat down. I was on my feet for four hours straight, so it had to be ok, right? Nope. See, when I got the job, I was told that "if they liked you," you would be brought on the work the week. Of course I wanted them to like me. Sitting was not a good look, especially for the dark skinned fat girl with the too tight bright red American Idol shirt. I got up and took a page from the gangs. I started doing any job. I went over to the exit and started to help the already fifteen PAs cut contestants blue wristbands. Now, I did not take any body's job, but I definitely 'helped out.' I even tried to get a pair of scissors from a gang member who was holding two pairs. What the hell did he need two pairs for? Of course he said some bullshit about holding them for someone who never showed up. It was cool though, I stood there without scissors and directed people toward PAs with scissors.
You never want to mess with a dark skinned fat girl with a too tight bright red American Idol tee shirt on. She's more sly than any gang.