Hard Day's Night

Good Morning, to the best four followers in the world. You guys motivate me man. After yesterday's events it's good to know that you are here. Helping me through. I'd truly be lost without you. Finally, I got a call to interview for a position I've waited nearly 13 years to be considered for. My day of reckoning had come. This interview was supposed to change my life , yet in a bizarre way it reminded me of how far I've actually come. The chick who called to ask me to interview for this life-changing position actually did me a favor. She told me to come in THE DAY AFTER she scheduled me for said interview. Of course, she can blame it on my incompetence. All those cute, perky-twenty-something'sin their trendy short skirts and high heels see an old, tired (certainly un-trendy) looking woman sitting in the waiting area to interview for an entry level job on the wrong day. Even though I would never have made this kind of mistake, I know how it looks. Pathetic. I feel pathetic. I wrote it down, I recorded the time, date, everything she told me to bring for the interview, I show it to the chick but of course it doesn't matter now. She won't even look me in the eye. She tells me the hiring manager has other interviews (understandable) and she might see me if she has time. "In the meantime you can fill out this paperwork and wait," she says. And I did wait. I sat and waited with my head down and back turned and filled out the paperwork. I just had a feeling the whole thing was a bust this morning when I thought I'd have time to take the twins to the library and be home with enough time to get them settled and get myself together. But when I brought them home, they didn't settle as quickly or quietly as I'd hoped. At that moment, I found myself excited for an opportunity to have another experience besides "mommy." I'd had enough of the tantrums and the crying and I needed a life outside of the boys or I would definitely lose it soon. When my suit didn't fit and I spent about five minutes crying at my image in the mirror, depleting the time I had in the bank, I should have seen it as an omen. When my nail polish started to peel, I should have left it alone, but I took up more time as I tried (horrendously unsuccessfully) to touch them up. Now my finger nails were covered in a globby mess of gun-metal blue, which matched my suit quite nicely, (before the peeling) if I may be so bold. Anyway, I did make it out of the house with a couple of minutes to spare. However, you'd think when I got to the subway platform and the doors shut in my face with the next one across the platform not taking any passengers that I would just call it quits and go home to play referee as I'd become accustomed to doing. Just give it up. But no, I kept it moving because I thought this was my moment of truth. Finally. But, when I got to the interview and security couldn't find me in the system, I recognized that I'd made a mistake. I didn't belong here. I wasn't wanted here. As I rode the elevator up to the 8th floor, I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror and I just looked...WRONG. The gentleman at reception was so kind. He really did try to find me among the scheduled candidates. It was just not meant to be. He told me that he was filling in, the receptionist had gone home sick and that's probably why he was unable to find my information, but I should go ahead and start filling out the paperwork... And that brings us back to the beginning: The chick comes back out into the waiting area after the kind man at reception goes to find out if he can help me. I tell him before he goes, that everything happens for a reason, and he responds, "you could be right, it could have been an error on our part," and I love him. But he disappears and I don't see him again. She flatly tells me to continue filling out the paperwork, but the hiring manager will not be able to see me today. (I'm confident she DID SEE ME, but decides I'm not worth her time) but I should leave my application at the desk, and if the hiring manager has time she will reschedule an interview next week. "Thanks Renee," she gets up and walks away. I'll never forget the slant of her voice, her pock-marked, over-made-up face or the way she refused to look me in the eye, shake my hand or apologize for the inconvenience. We both know this is all her fault. I'm sure my friend knew it too. I start to fill out the paperwork, trying to save face. I know they won't call me, and I definitely don't want to work there. As I sit, writing away,keeping my back towards the voices that gather to check out the spectacle that is me. I hear a nasaly, high-pitched voice proclaim, "It's my turn." Ugggh....covering phones. I am so beyond that right now. I have done it far too long and longer than I should have. I am 40 years old, with a master's degree. This is the last time I get low-balled. Besides I have twins to provide for and I require a salary that can accommodate that. I don't need six figures, but I certainly won't accept what they are offering. I don't have the time or the luxury to settle and hope that something better will come along. Thirteen years is long enough. I've overpaid my dues. The irony is that even though I wouldn't get to interview here, it's the only interview I've actually prepared for. I didn't finish filling out the paperwork, instead I wrote them a little note, thanking them for wasting my time, alerting the hiring manager that I have a master's degree and that the Glass Door reviews were right; their salary is way below industry standard. Don't bother re-scheduling an interview. I knew they wouldn't but it gave me great satisfaction to advocate for myself like that. So. I handed my "paperwork" to the adorable, smiling young receptionist. "Do I need to...?" She asks still smiling. She knows very well what she does not need to do. I return her dumb smile, shake my head no. I leave the office, change into my converse, slip on my shades, and walk towards Madison Avenue in search of sushi. It's a beautiful day outside.