So there you are in your itchy suit and squeaky shoes with a brand
new briefcase with that new-leather smell. You’re a bright-eyed, ambitious
TCU grad. Of course your first job interview will be a breeze,
what could possibly go wrong? You are fully prepared with a portfolio
that boasts all your
greatest accomplishments
from that in-depth history
research paper you got a
B on (it should have been
an A, but life isn’t always
fair) to the brilliantly funny
opinion columns you wrote
for The Skiff. You smile to
yourself when you think
about that last one about
spring break8212;hilarious.
Sitting in the waiting room
with three other applicants,
you check out the competition
and realize this isn’t exactly what you thought it would be. A
couple of people appear to be roughly your age, and three others
look older than your Dad. One of the applicants, a young woman in
her mid-20s with designer everything is talking into her cell phone as
though she were the only one there. “Well, I have done five internships,
and that year abroad where I learned everything to do with
this job, and oh yea I was named the cutest, funniest, most-qualified
person ever, I hope that’s enough,” she says into the phone.
What? You start to panic. Your advisor always said doing three internships
gave you a distinct advantage going into the interview
process. You thought you were covered. You realize your palms are
sweating and without thinking, wipe them on your skirt. Ew.
The last applicant is a guy who is popping gum and sitting with
legs akimbo, completely relaxed. You wish you had some of what
this guy is smoking, because he appears to be as cool as the proverbial
cucumber. You try to change the subject in your mind and
suddenly realize with a start
that you locked your keys in
the car … with your portfolio!
Crap.
A receptionist comes out
and calls in the internships
girl and the gum-popper.
As they walk out of the
waiting room together and
you notice one of the older
men has fallen asleep and
you snicker to yourself. Oh
thank God, your portfolio
is under the chair after
all. You still can’t find your
keys, but that’s okay, you’ll freaking walk home if it means you can
interview for this job.
Somehow your confidence returns as you step through that door
and all the tension melts away. You smile and your prospective boss
smiles back. The interview goes well though your nerves cause you
to forget almost every word of what was said as soon as it is over.
You get to the parking lot and fish out your phone with still shaking
hands and they have already emailed you a second interview date.
You think maybe all your worry was for naught and you might just
float to the house, nevermind the keys