A Job Interview

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When they ask me what I’m good at, I don’t know exactly what to tell them. In fact, I tell them that I did a little bit of this and a little bit of that, some phones calls here and there, shelving of the books, marketing the sales of memberships. Just the bare minimum in their eyes.

“So what else do you do?”

What else do I do, or do I sit around on my ass all day when I don’t do what they’re expecting me to say. It’s tough to sell yourself, but if you have guts and the prize in your eyes, they wouldn’t be asking these questions.

The prize in your eyes: tall, handsome, decisive. I’m neither of these three shits. I’m a little on the short side, but I do have a reach that could put a motherfucker to the ground. Handsome? I guess ruggedly interesting is a better word. Decisive? Well I’ve been known to make a decision or two, and rethink if those decisions were really the right choice.

But as a matter of fact, I don’t sit on my ass all day. I stay behind a computer screen and bleed from my fingertips. Well, that’s a bit hyper sensational. I actually just try to make sure I get into a rhythm. That’s what I’m good at – adapting. If you give me the right set of directions that I’ve never followed before in my life, I’m sure as hell going to try to follow them. If you tell me to fly out to you just to do an interview, you know that I’d greyhound it across the country if I couldn’t afford the plane ticket. And in the process, I’ll talk to the strangers at the bus stops and ask them “What are you doing?”

This one time when I was on the amtrak, a lady sat next to me. For some reason, I just had this feeling that she wanted to say something but didn’t for the first leg of the trip. When we stopped at our second stop, she turned to me and asked me where I was headed.

“I’m going to D.C.”

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do down there?”

“I’m going to meet with my brother and sister. We’re going to spend time with each other.” I pause. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them.”

Then she tells me about herself. She’s from Jersey. She’s an art teacher. She raves on about how there’s not much where she lives. In fact, she’s on a trip herself. She’s headed down to North Carolina. She’s stopping in D.C. too, so that she can meet with her friends and drive down to the south towards Myrtle Beach.

“I’ve never been to Myrtle Beach, but I hear it’s nice and cool,” I tell her.

She laughs out loud, then exchanges even louder words.

Then the train conductor comes to us, and tells us to look at the sign above in the aisle. It turns out that we’re in the quiet car, and we’re supposed to keep quiet.

“What’s life without getting into a little trouble,” I say.

For the remainder of the train ride, we talk in whispers and learn more about each other.

So, I guess the point is. I can adapt. I can keep quiet if you tell me to. I can take a train to wherever you are, or a bus to wherever you want me to be. If you need me to sit on my ass all day, let me. If you need me to bust someone’s chops, give me a chance. I can certainly talk a person up and see what kind of person they are. I can tell you exactly where they’re headed and what is on their mind.

Just give me the job and let me show you. I’m the chameleon of your dreams.

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