Tuesday, August 5, 2008

my boring day, re-posted, take two.

The problem with having a blog and not being a journalist, political mind of our time, or movie star is that nothing ever happens to me, so I don't have any adventures to report. Oh my god it's not a problem it's an opportunity.

I am a person who desperately wants things to happen to them. Things like a job. I went on an interview at yet another chiropractic office in Rochester Hills. What is it with me and only getting interviews at chiropractic offices? I'd say offhand I've been to about 8 different offices in the metropolitan area, my third in Rochester. The people of that town need to get their spines mother fucking aligned already and get on with life.

The guy that interviewed me was both a chiropractor and a motivational speaker(?) He asked me what business I had applying as a receptionist with a degree. He said he likes to help his receptionists reach their dreams. To reach their dreams of being his receptionist. The two girls he already had in his office belonged in a toothpaste commercial. Gorgeous smiling 21 year olds in scrubs. The office was one big room, darkly lit, the only light coming through the venetian blinds with operating tables like in frankensteins lab. There were two chairs set up in the middle of the room facing each other. I mean, it looked like a John Carpenter film. He should have turned on a smoke machine. He said he likes to do interviews "unconventionally," as in he comes into the room talking all weird to see how I handle it. I'm guessing not well, because I acted how I felt: confused. Then he went on and on in a way that didn't seem much like an interview to me at all. Generally an interview involves two people talking. I used all the NLP techniques in my arsenal. I mirrored my posture to his, tilted my head in the opposite direction from him, looked him in the eye and said "yeah" "mmhmm" in the same tone. He said the first interview is designed for him to get to know me. He will call back four or five girls for a second interview. "How I choose these girls, I have no idea. And I have no idea who I will choose." RIGHT. You have NO idea. You bring them in for 5 minutes, talk at them, and then choose based on some mystical, intangible impression of their secretarial credentials. On the way out he commented that I was tall. If he likes tall women I just may make it to the next round. I'll be holding my breathe until then.

I went to the fourth district and voted with my mother to save the zoo, even though fuck the zoo. I had a job interview with them, and as you can see by my not so quiet desperation, they didn't hire me either. I was a very uninformed voter. I voted a straight democratic ticket. When there were choices to be made, I voted for the girls. I voted for a democratic girl sheriff named Jane. If Jamal Jackson were on the ballot, I'd have voted for him instead. A Black sheriff!?

3 comments:

Chick Young said...

Bah, this stuff about nothing happening, that's exactly the minutae you should write about! I love that type of stuff. Recounting your maddening job interviews and lack of job interviews and so on, is just the ticket. Since you are looking for stuff to do, you ought to read Foucault's Technologies of the Self. It's precisely this sort of blog entry that he would argue makes for a mentally healthy citizen.

Hilary said...

Hi Molly,

We don't know each other, but you are the sole reader of my lamewad blog. Not even the boy I'm snogging reads my blog!

Having a reader is exciting for me, so I toyed with the idea of designing a questionaire to determine what you, my readership, would like to see on stardotstar. More dissertation? Personal reflections? Weave pics and / or weave-related entymology?

On your blog I would like to see a clearer pic, but you got many readers so you can afford to ignore my suggestions. :)

*.*

ETA: According to sitemeter, I have another loyal reader in Portland OR. But he or she would have to delurk to get the questionairre. ;)

stuporfly said...

It's hard to say this to someone writing about their misery, but by golly, I loved this.