Another interview down, another expectation ready to become a bust.Have no fear I have not become a cynical, pessimistic person. But I have become a more realistic one. I picked the worst year to graduate from college. With a recession and print journalism folding under the weight of our Internet driven age trying to enter the publishing world is hard. Very hard.
I am learning that rejection is not some personal attack on my character but simply that the people hiring interns and entry level candidates want to make sure they have the absolute right person for the job. And maybe that person is not me. That realization is called becoming a mature adult.
I went into this interview without the high level of expectation that I have previously had. I don't know if this was to soften the blow of another potential rejection, or if my commitment to attending grad school in the fall has decreased my fighting drive to enter the publishing world. For now anyway.
I did buy a cute sweater to wear to the interview. It cost me a hefty 42 bucks, but for once i felt stylish and put together. I always debate whether wearing jeans to an interview is appropriate or not but because I have only been going on interviews for internships I don't see a problem with injecting my own style into business wear. So I paired my cute grey sweater cloak thingy with dark jeans and kitten heels. I felt like a girl.
I scheduled the interview for 11am but because I do not know my way around the city and I wanted to catch an early train just in case I got lost on the way. In the last 3 months I have mastered the subway line and easily caught the 4 rail to Union Square, a place where all the cool artsy kids hang out. While I was on the train to grand central station I saw this hot guy wearing a tweed jacket. I have a thing for tweed but more importantly I have a thing for dudes who wear tweed. He was about my age with red hair and soft features and he looked composed in the crowded and noisy rush of people.
Though we got to the track for the 4 train at different times, when the train rolled up we somehow managed to get on another train together where we were sandwiched together for a quick 5 minutes. If you are not able to get a seat on the subway you have to stand, along with a shitload of other people, in the aisle. At peak hours this could mean standing in between someones armpit and breast depending on how and where you are standing at any given moment. I, being unable to secure a spot in reaching distance of a bar to steady myself, had to stand in the middle of the train as the car rocked back and forth. The man of my dreams in tweed was standing right behind me, facing the doors, which did not give us anytime to talk and stare longingly at one another. Where it not for the girl in the red peacoat, who unfortunately got pushed and jabbed by my unsteady self, I would have been tossed around all over the place.
Because the train was headed to Union Square there were a bunch of college kids in the car and when we finally reached 14th street, we emptied out in no particular order or manner. Union Square was pretty nice, ironically The New School (the grad school I was rejected from) is right around the corner, and for a moment I saw how my life would have turned out if I would have been accepted there. Like most places in New York, you can get overwhelmed by the buildings, people, and general activity. For some reason I am not too distracted by the sights as I am the smells of New York. There is food everywhere, and I wanted to continue breathing in the scent of coffee and burritos.
When I made it to the office I did not make the mistake of pissing off the building guard this time, and made my way to the literary agents office without harm. Of course I was an hour early,and the receptionist made a point of telling me this. She 'informed' me that just because I was early didn't mean I would get to have my interview early. I then had to 'inform' her that I was early for everything and that i didn't mind waiting. I had intended to come in early so I could freshen up in the bathroom (check my chair, face, and zipper) and change my shoes. I am petite and often times am mistaken for a teenager so I always wear heels on my interviews. But I did not want to wear heels on the train, so I put them in my big bag intending to change into them later on. Unfortunately I did not expect to encounter a rude receptionist and I was too frightened to ask her where the bathroom was.
Instead I changed my shoes in the waiting area, and doodled in my notebook until the agent greeted me. She actually interviewed me earlier then planed (take that receptionist lady) and per usual the interview went okay. I was asked the same old questions and could not help but follow them up with the same old responses. She said I was 'great' but that of course she had a hard decision to make and would get back to me soon about the position.
And so it goes.
When I reached the lobby, I started searching my bag for my grey shoes. I admittedly found one but could not for the life of me find the other one. Yes, my bag is really huge, but after dumping everything out I did not see my other shoe. I quickly realized that I must have left it in the agency, perhaps while i was changing shoes I left it under a chair. The guard did not let me slip by easily this time, and I had to explain to him that I was missing a grey shoe and that i left it on the 15th floor. When I stepped off the elevator, the receptionist was waiting for me with a humorous grin on her face.
"Did you see a grey shoe laying around anywhere", I asked.
She continued smiling and pointed to my grey shoe lying under chair, it look all lost and lonely without it's other half. I retrieved my shoe thankful that the agent was not there to see me running around the agency with one shoe on and then got in the elevator with a guy who wanted to know how I could leave my shoe in the waiting room. He was smiling (and laughing) as he asked me, and I could only explain that 'he'd have to know me to realize this was not unusual'.
All in all it was a good day. I don't have a chance in hell of getting this internship but I love traveling to the city as much as possible. I have contacted some volunteer agencies in order to learn more about volunteering outside of the country. I have decided that going to a school in another country will be both costly and impractical. Sometimes I need to throw ideas out there just to see it and analyze it. But there are a crap load ( I use this phrase a lot, I apologize) of short volunteer programs that can expose me to travel via service. I have a couple of months to spare and I would really like to go to South America or Eastern Europe. I am captivated by Africa at the moment (from books on the region, National Geographic images, to songs) but I may have to hold off on that trip for a while. You know, because there are several civil wars going on and all.
I have to write about the weird janitor guy again. He touched my nape the other day in a way that was 100% creepy and not at all cool. After the 'incident' I ran home and wrote down the beginning of a poem I think:
He addressed my nape with a familiarity reserved only for men
It sums up nicely the weird way his hand found their way to my neck. But, because I am sleepy I will have to write that story up later.
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