Simply getting called in for interviews is progress.
I felt pretty good last week as I made my way downtown for a 7PM interview at a non-profit. As I pulled up to the LA tenement, though, my heart started to sink. Months of unemployment and desperation finally pushed me through the doors of what seemed to be a deserted crack den. Post-It notes guided me through the eerily vacant, dimly lit hallways to a creepy cove of closed doors. Though another Post-It note instructed me to read while I waited, I got the chilling suspicion that I’d been lured to this place by a plot only Law & Order: SVU could cook up.
I contemplated running for my life. Yet, while there was a good chance I’d be decapitated if I stayed for the ‘interview,’ the threat of having my cat eat my emaciated carcass wasn’t a promising alternative. I really needed this job.
Finally, a cheerful lady guided me into her office for what I thought was a great interview. Sure, I was lacking a few prerequisites: I’ve never taught at an inner city school; Don’t have experience creating curriculums; Never had to restrain troubled youth while simultaneously delivering a teenager’s baby. But I know how to do everything else they asked for, and I gave some phenomenal answers. I left the woman’s office feeling pretty confident!
That all changed when I got in the rickety old elevator, the doors closed and all the lights went out. Perhaps SCREAMING profanity in terror is what cost me the job? I'll never know for sure. I'm just lucky I escaped that haunted halfway house in one piece.
At least I found out I’m eligible for a whopping $69/week through unemployment. Ow, ow! Hollywood, here I come!
