The further adventures in job searching

My ankle is nearly better. I have rested it (some) and spent time reading (a lot). Today, I actually went out. I had a second interview with a company I had seen two weeks ago.

They finally got all my references and wanted to talk to me about their benefits and the salary. I was anxious to hear what they had to say. I left my last job on February 13, and though my husband makes a reasonable salary, I like the challenge of working. I have been home for a while now and am ready to be productive again.

The day didn’t start out promising, though. At 7:00 a.m., I climbed into the tub. With a 10:00 a.m. interview, I had plenty of time to soak a bit, then dress my 4-year old and myself, get some breakfast, drop her at the sitter, and leisurely make my way to the interview.

I sighed as I eased myself into the hot water. With the bad ankle, I had been taking just quick showers, to reduce the slipping hazard. Now, however, I let every tension melt as the aroma of the scented bubbles reached my nose. “This is going to be a great interview,” I told myself. I knew I had made a great impression at the first one. I have all the skills they need and plenty of experience with them as well. The location is much closer to home than my last job. The hours are perfect. All that I needed was the right salary and benefits, and I would be ready to sign.

I had not even started to wash my hair when there was a timid knock on the bathroom door. “Mom?” Oh no, my 15-year old son, whose bus comes at 6:30 a.m. and who should have been out of the house well before I got up. “Yes, I guess you missed the bus?” I asked, knowing the answer. “I overslept; will you take me?” He isn’t old enough to drive yet. What choice did I have? “Yes, please get your sister dressed. I will hurry.” Darn, darn, darn. I grabbed the shampoo and started to lather up. This was not the best day to have to drive halfway across town. I rinsed the suds and reached for the conditioner. In fact, it was nearly the worst day. I distributed the conditioner through my hair, concentrating on the ends. I let that soak in while I shaved my legs. It was hard to do a good job on the one with the bad ankle, but I was determined to clear the gorilla-growth that had appeared while I was recuperating. I turned on the faucet to get some fresh water to rinse my hair. I was losing precious time.

I toweled off and grabbed my clothes. They were all laid out and ready. I had chosen them last night. For St. Patrick’s Day, I wanted to be sure I had something green. I put on the green plaid skirt and a light green shirt. I took out my bone pumps and gingerly slid them on. I hoped my ankle would be able to handle them. I ran a brush through my hair – no time to dry it or style it. Luckily, I have natural curls.

I was putting the brush away when my 13-year old knocked. “Come on in. I’m done,” I said as I closed the drawer. “Don’t forget that you need to drop me off this morning.” I had forgotten. She plays the double bass in the school orchestra and had All-City auditions yesterday. The bass doesn’t fit on the bus. I herded them out the door, reminding them of things that needed to come with us, closing the dogs in their crates, and locking the front door. I glanced out into the yard and saw that it had been raining for quite a while. Great! That means mud on my dress shoes.

We piled in the car. My son had to be taken first. He had a project due in English and it was his first class. The period ends at 8:40. I looked at the clock, 8:02; we might make it. I started calculating the times for various routes based on traffic patterns and accident reports on the radio. Since there was a big accident just before the exit I would need if I took the highway, that was out. Going down Holland at 8 a.m. was sure to be a nightmare. The boulevard was the only possibility, though the thought of stoplights every 50 yards chilled my blood.

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up in front of his school. There were no parking spaces available, of course. He asked why we couldn’t just park at the curb. I rolled my eyes and calmly explained to this near-driving-age-teen-who-got-all-As-in-drivers-ed that parking in a fire lane is considered a no-no. We made it in time for his to turn in his project, but it was close.

One down, two to go. The sitter for the 4-year old was closer, but the 13-year old needed to be through the door before 9:10. Considering her school is only 3 minutes from our house, and it took 28 minutes to get where we were, my first thought was to trek there first, but that would leave me to get the 4-year old in to the sitter, which meant walking in the heels in the rain. Plus, the sitter’s daughter was my 13-year-old’s best friend. I decided to chance it, and headed toward the sitter.

Returning the way we came was not an option. That would have us in the pack with the Navy guys on their way onto base. The highway would have us in the pack of commuters who worked in the Lynnhaven area. Rosemont south was the best alternative. I turned back onto the boulevard heading toward Rosemont. The traffic was light, and I made Rosemont in great time. We pulled into the sitter’s subdivision and I asked my daughter to walk her sister up to the house. The little one suddenly threw a fit. I suppose four weeks of having me home with her had spoiled her a bit. She refused to go inside and fought her sister. I had no choice. I got out in the rain, hiked up my skirt a bit, and picked up the 41-pound dead weight. Somehow, she made herself even heavier. I carefully made my way up the steps, praying I wouldn’t twist my ankle again. My sitter met me at the door, and took her. “Go. I’ve got her. Good luck.”

As quickly as I dared, I turned and made my way back to the car. Two down, one to go. I got in and glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair looked okay if a bit frizzy, darn this humidity, but I hadn’t had time to brush my teeth or put on even a drop of makeup. As I made my way to the school, I counted the stoplights between there and the interview. Would that give me enough time to do make-up? I am not one who typically does my makeup in the car, but I did have some that I keep there for a touch up in the parking lot before I go in somewhere. There was no way I would attempt to do it while moving. I had seen women try that and usually their cars were weaving everywhere while they did. No, it would have to be in the parking lot.

I pulled into the Student Drop-Off lane and popped the trunk. My daughter got out and retrieved the double bass from the back. “Good luck,” she called up through the van. “Thanks, see you later,” I replied as she closed the back. Three down, time to go to the interview.

My tummy rumbled as I pulled out of the school lot. I realized I had not have breakfast either. That would mean a rumbling tummy during the interview. Hardly the best way to make a good impression. I considered a quick stop at a fast food place, but decided against it. As I waited at a stop light, I looked down between the seats. Sure enough, there was an unopened soda there. I had bought a twelve pack the week before I quit and a few were still left on my last day, so I had carried them out to the car. In my laziness, I had not carried them in the house. With the recent weather, the can was nearly as cold as from my fridge. Breakfast, at last. Not the most nutritious, in fact, not even nutritious, since it was Diet, but at least something in my stomach.

I turned at the light, and headed down the final stretch. I was making great time. I would have 30 minutes at least. All the lights were green for me and I got there with 35 minutes to spare. I grabbed the makeup bag, and quickly put on my face. I sprayed some detangler in my hair to calm the frizzies.

I got my portfolio and my purse, and locked the car. I checked in with the receptionist and asked to use the bathroom. I wanted to see my face in a proper sized mirror. Not too bad for a day like today. I washed my hands and put on some hand scented lotion, then I took several deep breaths. I was ready.

Within a few moments of returning to the lobby, my interviewer greeted me and led me to the director’s office.