Seperis (seperis) wrote,

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drama in the workplace

Sometimes, I surprise even myself with my true dramatic moments, because man, I never, ever really thought that a surprise interview would throw me *that* badly.

Yes, you heard right. That job that I applied for that I'm not talking about? Three hours before the interview time, they called me to come in and interview.

You know, despite the fact that I'm perfectly willing to be as childish as possible, things like this really don't *bother* me. It's a performance, and I can perform. Not a problem, never has been, never will be. But I *want* this job. I had this weird idea, and don't ask me why, that I was going to go and buy an interview suit and actually prep myself for this. You know. Be cliched.

So I leave work at eleven to get there by eleven fifteen--the only real nice thing about it was that until I had to leave, I was *busy* and it was impossible to actually think about what was happening. I got jittery before I even walked out the door and started smoking immediately, breaking my no more than three cigarettes during work hours rule. The second Really Lucky Thing was that it was close enough to walk, so I got to work off a lot of my nervousness by moving a lot. I didn't have my MP3 player, which probably would have helped to at least keep me from sounding as insane as I did, since I started singing Christmas carols or something (I honestly don't remember what the hell I was singing to calm down). But I got there, checked into HR, sat down and read over the disclosure paper things and signed off.

Anyway, I won't go into what happened at the interview. I don't really *know* what happened. I could have been speaking in tongues for all I can really remember clearly. I know the guy was great and when he asked if I'd need special accomodations at my potential job, I asked if wearing glasses counted, and they shouldn't worry, since I keep two pairs on me at all times. And I talked so *much*. And I talked so fast. And I actually think I sounded like I knew what I was talking about, but honestly, I could have been talking about how to give a bath to a cat.

I still can't believe I *said* that. *Glasses* for God's sake.

He got my references--my supervisor, my Worker IV, and the Worker IV who works with scheduling who I know pretty well. I know they called my supervisor and got her thing on me already.

I walked over to Thundercloud and got sick to my stomach while ordering, still got a sandwich and a couple of brownies, and couldn't eat anything but the brownie over the five hours left of my day. I jittered back to work, went to chat with my supervisor to steady myself (also gave her my other brownie), and then went back to work early. They think I'm insane. I don't blame them. I'm beginning to think the same thing.

It's funny--my sleep went off in a big way again, so I suppose me and the Ambien are going to be bonding. Exhausted, but can't really sleep. I saw it coming by ten last night and dosed myself. Still took a long time to work myself down enough to sleep, and I regretted it bitterly in the morning.

But ask me how I got to sleep.

Why, if I don't get this job? I'm going to buy myself all three seasons of QaF on DVD (though I wouldn't get three until February). I don't care that I won't eat lunch for the month of January. I actually dreamed I got a multidisk DVD player so I could switch between all the eps in all the seasons at random.

I dreamed about a multidisk DVD changer and watching a show that I have almsot memorized the first season of, and I can find every sex scene in under thiry seconds. I think I've gone well beyond normality with that one. Though not much, as one of my coworkers went to the UT/A&M game and painted her face burnt orange. That made me feel less like someone should put a big sign on me saying, freaky person. Maybe a little sign would do.

Of course, I stalked the HR department today until someone put me off saying next week sometime, but before December fifteenth. As training starts December tenth, let us all hope that is less than perfectly accurate.

I'm *still* jittery. And I honestly believed that I'd really seen the weirdness I was capable of under stress, but not eating and bad sleep and everything else right now just combined in a big, big way to see if it can actually drive me into drink.

Well, not good drinks. My tolerance sucks and I have a really unstable relationship with liquor, and beer and I hate each other unless I get past the liquor first. Drive me to abusing cold medication, I suppose. Though my stomach's been rebelling against even that at the moment. I got a few bottles of cranberry hard lemonade stuff, but it's still sitting by my desk, and I get nauseated every time I think about opening one.

God, I have to get this. I know it'll be hellish and I know that training will suck and I know that for two months, I can't miss a single day of training and I know, I know, I know that what I want to do is probably the hardest job in the entire damned place, and I even asked that I go back to teh office I'm at now, which is so understaffed that we are thirty days behind and counting, when the norm is TEN DAYS OR LESS and our people are burning out after less than a year, and we've had one supervisor, our Program Manager, and three workers leave, three more are about to leave, and two are on extended leave and probably won't come back, like, ever. I don't even *care*. I want this job, I could be good at this job, or at least, I can do something good with this job, and dammit, I need another cigarette.

I suppose it says something that I doubled my coffee intake again after the Unfortunate Decaffeinating Incident that plagues my mornings.

You know, if I don't get this job? I'm buying the Smallville DVDs too. There.
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