Death of a Saleswoman

Just came back from my first interview since being unemployed. Geeze, I forgot the whole process. The nerve wrecking situation where you have people go over your qualifications and judge you right away. Interviewing is like meeting God and Peter at the gate and in a quick amount of time you have to convince them, that you are perfect for the job. That you should go to the next step and if you blow it then, see ya in hell.

Before I even got there, I needed gas and frankly I am poor. I went to CVS to use the coinstar machine and must say the lady there was really sweet. I was $0.03 off to $16 but she waved it and gave me the full $16. So sweet, I had to mention her.


The first two managers that I talked to were wonderful. I seem to have impressed the second manager with my answer to “why should I hire you?” Sometimes I don’t filter my word vomit when I’m nervous, so a mix of honesty was sprinkled in with my answer. The other guy though, he was not amused. He wanted my sole focus to be around selling cars. “Do I have thick skin?” Yes, I was the only girl when I worked with musicians, I can take a joke. It seemed like he couldn’t take a joke to the sass in my tone. He also wasn’t fond of me returning back to school. Ughhh

Then on to the “tell me about yourself” question. I hate that question. I also fuck up when it comes to this. I know what I want to say but it doesn’t come out. How I even had jobs based on all the things I’ve done during interviews perplexes me. Last time, during mid sentence I forgot what I was saying. I went blank and asked the guy to repeat himself. I was hired and worked for a good year at that place. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good worker, no doubt about that, I just suck at interviews.

The top of my application that he handed me, so they could have a physical copy on board, was filled with scribbles. Thank God I brought my own pen, since snobby-bitchy-fat-young-girl gave me attitude the whole time while I was there. I wanted to tell her, I’m not getting your job, chill. Back to the scribbles, it said position applying for, I put my name…what the hell is wrong with me?

A reflex I suppose.

I thought all of the best things to say as I was driving away. It’s like I was insulted and 10 minutes later I came up with a comeback. I hate being nervous, but once on the floor, I can sell.

I know they’re hesitant because I am a girl, but I’ve sold everything but cars. I’ve been Al Bundy, climbed up ladders in skirts, and now it seems like I’m gonna be ol Gil from the Simpsons.

This will be the death of me.


One thought on “Death of a Saleswoman

  1. Pingback: Reading Digest: Personal Inspiration Edition « Dead Homer Society

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