I’m not what you’d call “dignified.” I tend to trip over my own feet, say the wrong thing, and make crude jokes. Hell, even at my own wedding, at the precise moment I should’ve resembled absolute grace and beauty as I walked down the aisle, I ended up getting my veil stuck on a nail and nearly snapped my head back.
So you would think I would come to expect Fate or God or Buddha’s giant celestial stick poking me at inopportune times and would therefore be prepared for its inevitable stab.
You would think, anyway.
But every time it happens, I am just as dumbfounded and confused as before, like a dog being taunted by a laser pointer.
Take for instance a big job interview I had a few weeks ago.
I had been agonizing and preparing for days, practicing what I was going to say and how I was going to present my writing samples. Finally, it was the night before and all I had to do was get a good night’s sleep.
Then Fate swooped in.
At around midnight, just as Joe and I were drifting into sleep, his phone rang.
“It’s your sister,” Joe said to me. “Hello? Hi. Oh….ok are you alright? Ok, no problem, just let me know when you need a ride,” Joe said as he hung up.
“What happened?” I was completely awake now.
“Your sister cut her hand pretty bad so she’s in an ambulance going to the hospital.”
I panicked. Joe insisted that I get some sleep and that he would take care of my sister but I was too worried. I texted her immediately and found out they were taking her to Lakewood Ranch Medical Center. As soon as I heard Joe fall back asleep, I slipped out of bed and drove to the hospital. She insisted that I didn’t have to, but I knew she would’ve done the same for me.
I paced around the lobby waiting for them to let me in to see her. After almost twenty minutes, I was finally allowed to go back into the emergency room and found her lying in one of the rooms. Her hand was all bandaged but still showing blood. I sat with her and tried to cheer her up, even accidentally banged my head on the computer keyboard (which brought her and the attending nurse much amusement). Eventually the doctor came in and stitched her hand up, so then all we were waiting for was to be released. I tried to maintain my joviality throughout the whole visit, but as I noticed the hours ticking by and my head beginning to droop, it took all of my strength not to turn sour.
At around 3:45 A.M., we were finally told we could leave but that we should make sure she had fresh bandages and pain relievers. Since we were going to pass a 24-hour Wal-Mart anyway, I insisted we stop so she could get whatever she needed for the next day.
By the time I dropped her back off at her apartment and slid into bed, it was close to 5:30 A.M. I had just enough strength to kick my shoes off and take a “nap” before my alarm sounded for work at 7 A.M.
I dragged my body up and out the door, making sure I grabbed my interview clothes and gear as well. I somehow managed to get my work done but as lunchtime rolled around I needed to refuel. I tend to skip lunch but seeing as how I would not appear the most competent candidate if I fell asleep during my interview, I forced myself into the cafeteria. I ate a small salad and some pasta with chicken. Perfect, I thought, some protein, carbs and vegetables would keep me going.
At last the time came. I clocked out of work, changed into my interview clothes, and dashed out to the interview. Happily, I arrived early (a rare feat for me) and I was just beginning to relax. Since I had a few moments, I decided to apply a little more makeup. As I opened the bottle of liquid foundation- splat. A big tan dollop of makeup landed right on my khakis. I sat there for a few moments, in both shock and absolute fascination. Who spills makeup on themselves minutes before a job interview? If you ever saw that scene in “Me, Myself, and Irene” where Jim Carrey’s character Charlie suddenly cracks and becomes Hank…that was me. I laughed. I screamed. I probably shed a tear or two.
But then I snapped back into mission-mode. I dabbed the stain with some water as best I could, straightened by blazer, and said “f*** it” to the giant poking stick. I walked into the building and decided I would let my personality shine brighter than the stain, brighter than my exhaustion, and brighter than my personal doubts and fears. I was introduced to the staff and warmly shook their hands and smiled as hard as I could.
I carried this same demeanor as we sat down and began talking more about the job. I asked questions and offered my own thoughts, all while maintaining my air of professionalism and affability. I even made them chuckle a few times with my wry wit. And I just kept on smiling widely.
When the interview was over, I again shook their hands and expressed my gratitude at meeting them all. They all smiled back and seemed to genuinely like me. As I waved them goodbye and walked back to my car, I let myself take a big deep breath. I had done well. I had survived a long day and overcame a big challenge; all with little more than two hours sleep. I called Joe immediately as I drove home telling him all about how the day went, about the spill on my pants, and about how I managed to rise above the personal humiliation and leave that interview with my dignity still intact.
I pulled into my driveway and there was Joe, arms open wide to give me a hug. I stepped out of my car and just as I was about to collapse in his arms with relief and fatigue, he stopped me.
“You know there’s a piece of lettuce stuck in your teeth, right?”
So, dear friends, I have come to terms with my own ridiculousness. There has to be some evolutionary benefit to constantly making a fool of yourself. If for no other reason, it serves as a great source for amusement and reflection, my own included.
And, of course, blog material.
