i've got that fill-in-the-blank feeling
Lots of cool heavens. I can imagine. Having coffee with and old friend brings back all these memories of how I used to be – am I really so different now? Maybe. What really strikes me though is how well two people can know each other.
This is turning out to be a really strange couple of weeks. I have been visiting people for one thing (out of my hermit mood and back onto the streets). Yesterday I redeemed a gift certificate and spent the better part of the day in a spa having my body scrubbed, buffed, polished, scented, poked and prodded until I felt truly renewed and clean. I drifted in and out of sleep throughout the whole experience and at one point (and this is strange because I truly don’t believe in this sort of thing at all) I had what I can only describe as an out of body experience. I was watching everything happening to me from the top right corner of the room. I know, it sounds ridiculous and it spooked the crap out of me so that I woke myself up with a jerk. After that, I didn’t enjoy the experience as much. For one thing, I started to get restless. I get restless just watching a movie so having been prone for three hours already I started to feel like I wanted to leap up from the table, lunge out the door and escape into the street in my skivvies. But, I lasted. And, it was worth it, I guess. I did like having a facial and I did like getting the massage but overall, I’m just not a relaxation type of person. In fact the relaxing stressed me out a little.
SO then after this strange spa experience I tooled around downtown for a while waiting for 4:30 when I had a job interview at this ultra modern, corporate office in Gastown. The place was seriously over the top with large primary graphics embedded into the rugs and steel beams at dangerously (no way were they structural) incongruous angles. The receptionist was cold and fashionable; she offered “latte, tea, Pellegrino?” Hmmmmm, is this the beginning of the interview? When I go for non-profit interviews I usually say “no thanks” and then pull out my Nalgene if I need a swig. But here? I better take the fancy water. Two minutes later I’m seated in front of a foursome that looks suspiciously like a futuristic version of the Mod Squad and trying to get comfortable in the chair/art that they’ve motioned towards for me to perch. The interview begins. Only two of the squad speak: a short, geeky looking guy wearing Buddy Holly glasses, high-tops and a Dukes of Hazzard tee and an older saucy looking West-Van-wife with stilettos and a killer dress on. She’s the Marketing Director and he’s the Product Manager. Their minions, who are dressed in stock alternative dress are introduced as “our assistants Paul and Leoni” and after the initial nod of acknowledgement do nothing but scribble all my answers furiously onto their coil notepads. At this point I’m pretty sure that I have some major pit stains (damn shirts always cut too high in my armpits) and my mouth is drier than the Gobe desert. I take a swig of Pellegrino and start to answer the first question: “Tell us a little about yourself”. Oh fuck.
The rest of the interview is a bit of a blur. I made some killer responses and some not-so killer responses, but overall I put on a good performance. Good enough to have been called back for seconds and to get a thank you card from them (signed by the minions no doubt but, still pretty cool to get a thank you from them) I’ll have to go clothes shopping before the next meeting because I used up the only trendy corporate wear I had in the first meeting; I wonder what they would think if I showed up in the same garb twice? Maybe I could just find one really cool outfit and buy 5 of them and wear the same thing ever day. It’ll be my uniform. Ack, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want this job. What I do want is money and freedom. Anybody got some money they don’t want? All I need is a dollar from every Canadian….yah.
So, that’s the news on the job front. In other news, I got slash guards for my forearms today so watch-out all you hockey fuckers who like to bruise me up…I’m not taking any more shit.
Over and out.
This is turning out to be a really strange couple of weeks. I have been visiting people for one thing (out of my hermit mood and back onto the streets). Yesterday I redeemed a gift certificate and spent the better part of the day in a spa having my body scrubbed, buffed, polished, scented, poked and prodded until I felt truly renewed and clean. I drifted in and out of sleep throughout the whole experience and at one point (and this is strange because I truly don’t believe in this sort of thing at all) I had what I can only describe as an out of body experience. I was watching everything happening to me from the top right corner of the room. I know, it sounds ridiculous and it spooked the crap out of me so that I woke myself up with a jerk. After that, I didn’t enjoy the experience as much. For one thing, I started to get restless. I get restless just watching a movie so having been prone for three hours already I started to feel like I wanted to leap up from the table, lunge out the door and escape into the street in my skivvies. But, I lasted. And, it was worth it, I guess. I did like having a facial and I did like getting the massage but overall, I’m just not a relaxation type of person. In fact the relaxing stressed me out a little.
SO then after this strange spa experience I tooled around downtown for a while waiting for 4:30 when I had a job interview at this ultra modern, corporate office in Gastown. The place was seriously over the top with large primary graphics embedded into the rugs and steel beams at dangerously (no way were they structural) incongruous angles. The receptionist was cold and fashionable; she offered “latte, tea, Pellegrino?” Hmmmmm, is this the beginning of the interview? When I go for non-profit interviews I usually say “no thanks” and then pull out my Nalgene if I need a swig. But here? I better take the fancy water. Two minutes later I’m seated in front of a foursome that looks suspiciously like a futuristic version of the Mod Squad and trying to get comfortable in the chair/art that they’ve motioned towards for me to perch. The interview begins. Only two of the squad speak: a short, geeky looking guy wearing Buddy Holly glasses, high-tops and a Dukes of Hazzard tee and an older saucy looking West-Van-wife with stilettos and a killer dress on. She’s the Marketing Director and he’s the Product Manager. Their minions, who are dressed in stock alternative dress are introduced as “our assistants Paul and Leoni” and after the initial nod of acknowledgement do nothing but scribble all my answers furiously onto their coil notepads. At this point I’m pretty sure that I have some major pit stains (damn shirts always cut too high in my armpits) and my mouth is drier than the Gobe desert. I take a swig of Pellegrino and start to answer the first question: “Tell us a little about yourself”. Oh fuck.
The rest of the interview is a bit of a blur. I made some killer responses and some not-so killer responses, but overall I put on a good performance. Good enough to have been called back for seconds and to get a thank you card from them (signed by the minions no doubt but, still pretty cool to get a thank you from them) I’ll have to go clothes shopping before the next meeting because I used up the only trendy corporate wear I had in the first meeting; I wonder what they would think if I showed up in the same garb twice? Maybe I could just find one really cool outfit and buy 5 of them and wear the same thing ever day. It’ll be my uniform. Ack, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want this job. What I do want is money and freedom. Anybody got some money they don’t want? All I need is a dollar from every Canadian….yah.
So, that’s the news on the job front. In other news, I got slash guards for my forearms today so watch-out all you hockey fuckers who like to bruise me up…I’m not taking any more shit.
Over and out.
posted by wattlebla at 17:08
1 Comments:
I thought I'd read your blog and go back to sleep for my graveyard shift. I laughed so hard, now i'm wide awake. "No sleep till Brooklin" Maybe I wasn't supose to laugh but I did. Forget buying any new outfits I think you should should just turn your current outfit inside out and wear your slash guards. During your second interview throw in a ton of awesomes too. Don't worry when I win the lottery you will be wearing those slash guards all the time because I will need you to play hockey with me. I'll give you a decent salary with medical coverage.
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