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A massive case of pee shivers.

Issue Date: Monday, Apr. 17, 2006

So… a few weeks ago, in the midst of the closing for our new house, the furniture purchases, getting our taxes done and all of that hoopla, a friend of mine handed me this paper and said, “Look at this posting, you would be perfect for this job.” I looked at the paper and sure enough, on the paper in front of me a job was listed that would utilize all of my past experience and then some. A job that would challenge me and develop other keen senses. Like my sense of smell? Of Irony? No, but maybe challenge my velvet hammer theory (getting others to do things and make them think it is their idea… especially in the work place… and it is your boss or a committee of hard headed volunteers that you are working on.) and I wouldn’t travel as much and get paid more and have more vacation days.

Sweet, right?

But then I say to you. Hey you, I am comfortable in and with my job. I appreciate the association and nonprofit type of situations. The money is eh, but you usually work with people who are passionate about what they do. Right? Right. I appreciate coming into work everyday. I like my boss, I like my coworkers. My commute is tolerable. I like that I have been coming here for almost three years. I like my little nest. (And I love my blackberry phone. Work Perk. Love.)

I have always strived for the next big thing. I have always looked for what was coming down the pipe per se. I have never been this content. And yet? I like being this content. It is very comfortable. But I ask myself, “Self? Is this comfort zone a dangerous place to be?” And I answer, “Uh… dunno.”

There is no place for me to go professionally while working here. My boss? He has been here for 10 years and I don’t really foresee him going anywhere anytime soon. And above him… my director who has been here since Nixon was in short pants. Seriously, like twenty-seven years or something. So there is not really any room for advancement. The question is do I care?

Honestly, at the moment? I can’t really say that I do.

But yet… what did I do?

Did I submit my resume? Oh hell yeah. Did I get a phone interview, a personal interview (that lasted almost two hours) and then a final interview last Friday that was between the top two contestants? Well, yes. Yes, I did.

Here’s the deal. I like to consider myself friends with my boss, so I asked him about this comfort level thing. I was trying to get an answer out of him that would tell me, “Susan, you are comfortable now. But, it will only last another 1.7 years and then you will be miserable and by that time you will have given up your only chance for happiness with this other company!” Yeah, I really didn’t get that kind of answer. And yes, I did tell my boss that I was looking at another company and that I have had interviews. And yes, I was cheating on my association with another buffer, more attractive and attentive association.

Um, I think I have wandered off target here.

Anyway… I told him about my interview for that upcoming Friday (last Friday) and he was very nice about the whole thing. He told me about other jobs that he had worked and tried to answer my comfort level questions. He was pretty astute in figuring out that I was torn (torn, like an old sweater) between the two positions. On one hand, I had not been offered the new job yet, and on the other hand, I am just so damn comfy in my present role I didn’t know if I should even consider the other position because I was sure that the other candidate wanted the job badly.

So, I did what any employee would do. I asked my boss to pray that God would make it completely obvious what I should do.

What? I am convinced that my boss has an inside track with the Big Guy upstairs.

Yeah, you can start pointing those “Crazy!” fingers any moment. S’ok.

So… Thursday of last week rolled around. At the end of the day my boss man asked me to call him after the interview on Friday morning to let him know how it went. I told him I would because I had Friday off for the Easter Holiday so I wasn’t going in to the office after the interview.

I’m getting all ramble-y.

I headed home Thursday evening. I was driving and talking to someone on my cell phone and I noticed (well, it was sort of tough not to notice) that the hoopty died at a stop light. Hmmmm. Interesting. The “Check Engine – You Moron” light came on and the oil pressure gauge light came on when she died. She didn’t knock or make any strange noises. She just died, a quiet little death.

I was able to restart her and limp along another mile or so until she died again.

I started to panic. I had to be at the (old) house by 6:15 for some people to come pick up our existing furniture. That morning (between talking to my boss about entertaining the notion of a new job, one that wouldn’t involve working for him, hence leaving him in a lurch because we are ramping up for our busy go-go-go-travel-travel-travel period of the year, and actually working) I posted pictures and descriptions of our furniture on Craig’s List.. I posted Mister’s furniture as an eight (?) piece living room suite with all of the matching (matchy matchy) coffee tables, end tables, lamps, couch, love seat and chair, and mine was just posted as a sectional with reclining ends. Ya’ll I posted about four pictures of each set and by four o’clock (in the pm) both sets were sold!

So, I was heading home to sell Mister’s furniture out from under him. (What? The new stuff was delivered to the new house last Friday. And PS? It is Awesome.) And… the hoopty died. Yes, I know she is old and busted. Yes, I know she is over 100,000 miles. Yes, I know she is maroon/purple and needs some TLC. But she is over 200 miles away from needing an oil change, the sticker thingy says so.

So, she died. And I kept restarting her and calling Mister, “Are you almost home?... Holy crap, she died again. I’ll be there as soon as I can!” Mister beat me to the old house and we rushed around and made sure there were no embarrassing things sitting out for people to judge us… and yes, I am talking about the Precious Moments figurines.

People came and took away the living room suite and the sectional and they were all so nice. So Mister and I headed home, to the new house, in his Lincoln LS* to pack for the next day (we went to my parents’ house for the Easter weekend), made lists of things we needed to do and laid out my clothes for my interview the next morning.

The next morning (Friday) I got up, got dressed, fretted about my outfit and left the house driving the Lincoln. I got about four miles away from the new house and the “Check Engine Temperature” information came on the read out panel. A fan that sounded like a jet engine fired up. I got in the right lane and pulled into a residential neighborhood and then the little engine block light came on and the read out panel shouted, “ENGINE POWER REDUCED!” And the car shuttered like it had just about had it… or had a massive case of pee shivers.

I called Mister, “You will never guess.” He did. So I headed to the old house and jumped in the hoopty. Thank goodness I left plenty of time for traffic and piece of shit car antics. I headed to my interview and the hoopty didn’t die until I got on the street that the company is headquartered off of.

I got there with about 20 minutes to spare until my interview. I called a coworker to see how she was, called Mister to let him know I made it safe and sound, a little jittery and pissed at the vehicles, but safe and sound, then headed inside to the interview.

The interview was like a firing round. Four department heads, the CFO, the COO and the President sat me at a chair and fired questions at me. It was so uncomfortable ya’ll. I would answer a question and they would just sit there until someone decided to ask me something else. The president made a “Oh, this was well thought out and planned now wasn’t it?” Un-Com-For-TABLE! Lord.

I was only in there about 50 minutes and when I got out to my car I sent my boss an email to see if he was available.

To: Bossman
From: Me
You prayed that my car would die this morning, didn't you?

To: Me
From: Bossman
I prayed to the Lord, and he answered my prayer....

I promptly called him and told him he was a shit. Then I told him about the “Ode to Discomfort” that was the interview. I have to say, I think he was happy about it. Yay, uneasiness, anxiety and distress!

Mister thinks that I nailed the interview. I told him about all of their questions and repeated back to him my answers, and he thinks that I was very professional and right on the money. I tend to see the glass as half empty or very spotty and needs some Jet Dry©. But he tried to assure me that I was the one that they wanted.

Who knows?

I will let you guys know as soon as I either get an offer or… not… and whether I am going to take it… or… not.

So after the interview we went and dropped off both of our cars at the dealership, picked up a Big Huge loaner car, finished our taxes and paid out a frillion dollars, put the check and the tax return in the mail, packed and headed to my folks’ house.

What a beating. The taxes, not going to my parents’.

*The LS is so cute and sporty, but such a POS. We have had her in the dealership shop about six times for transmission issues and she is a 2003 model. Hello? Lemon? Yeah, we had our Lemon Law court date on Wednesday and we’ll hear if the manufacturer has to buy her back or not in 30-90 days.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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