God I loathe  job interviews. I have been known to fall in to a dissociative panic-spell, my heart pounding in my ears and my focus inexplicably locked on an interviewer’s crooked tooth, noticeable contact lenses, or chipped nail polish. I try to shift focus to the interviewer’s eyes, but then feel that I am staring at his/her eyes too much. And how much is the right amount, really… and did they notice that I have no idea what the last thing they said was, or that I am clenching my hand so hard that I may have the concentric-circle design of a Bic pen cap forever imprinted on my thumb? And whycan’tIjustgetthefuckoutofhere?  

I try desperately to listen to a sunny description of a mediocre benefits package or tightly-wound instruction that the candidate be Detail Oriented, but I just want to flee. That’s me, coming at the panic crossroads and mentally making a hard right at FLIGHT every time. I have never actually left a job interview before it is over, but I have internally weighed the option of telling an interviewer that I was having an asthma attack so that I could leave. 

 And I don’t even have any ativan for tomorrow. As it happens, I haven’t had any benzodiazapines in almost two years due to pregnancy and breastfeeding. And what I really want to say to them is, ‘I’m just looking for a job that’s not super hard or stressful, that pays okay, and where I can go home early to see my kid as much as possible. I’d like to be able to leave if she’s sick, or if I really, really miss her, or if I just start to panic about being separated from her by the subway and a bridge and several miles. Okay? …also I want to be able to check my e-mail. I haven’t had a job where I could check my e-mail for SO LONG. I also sometimes get panic attacks during interviews, so if you wouldn’t mind, I may take off my shoes and curl into a ball and start repeating my Calming Mantra at some point.”

But maybe they won’t even consider me anyway. I went on The Company’s website yesterday and noticed that all of their staff is really hot. I’m pretty ambivalent about this job, so I’m slightly hoping that my appearance–while not awful, but more Janeane Garafolo than Megan Fox–will disqualify me… I know, I like to psych myself up before interviews! It’s so invigorating! 

“...In closing, I’d like to say that my tepid morning greetings, endless bitching about the temperature in the office, and intention to leave this job in less than two years make me an ideal candidate for this position. Thank you for your consideration.”

Anyway, I really can’t decide about my hair.  For the first time in my life I believe I had my hair cut by someone who is younger than me (I believe). His name was Star (Seriously. Star.) and he looked like he was a member of Poison. Anyway, when I like my hair it reminds me of this Isabella Rosellini, and when I hate it reminds me of a 1930s German Olympian or Little Lord Fauntleroy.