Mostly, the unemployed life was amazing. While I was on severance pay, I had no worries and conquer the art of doing absolutely nothing. Alas, all good things must come to an end as they say...oh wait, I don't believe that at all. But my lassez-faire life was put to an end when I realized I would eventually need money, which translated to finding a job.
When I started the job hunt and saw what was "out there," an internal struggle began. On one hand, I needed a job, I needed money and I needed self-fulfillment. On the other hand, did I really want to give up my life of leisure for a desk job where I work on spreadsheets all day and pretend that the job MEANS something?! How creative can one get with data? It just so happens, having a job won. So off I went and got myself a recruiter. The recruiter sent me on a multitude of interviews, so much so, she became a fantastic friend.
But it all started with the dreaded "First Interview," which I went to simply because it was a five-minute walk from my apartment. I read the listing and thought, "It's not my cup of tea, a bit junior, but everyone says interview practice is a good thing." Everyone is wrong!
As I researched my interviewer, I found out he is younger than me with a Master's degree. Naturally, I already hated him! But alas, I sucked it up, and took my measly Bachelor-Degree self to the interview. I absolutely resented having to wear a suit, pantyhose, and heels to interview. If my future employers really wanted to know who I am and what I'm about, they should have interviewed me in my natural habitat wearing my pajamas! But I digress...
I made it to the floor where I was supposed to meet the infant interviewer. He had the audacity to make me wait fifteen minutes. I figured maybe he hadn't learned to tell time yet. He finally surfaced, only to look around confused as to where we should meet. I wanted to scream, "May I suggest a conference room???" Instead, I, the interviewee, found us a conference room, sat down, and waited for my interviewer to grill me.
To his credit, my interviewer decided to start the interview with a light question. My resume, like any resume, stated the name of my alma mater, the city and state, the year I graduated, and the degree. Pretty standard really. Infant boy asked me, "So you went to [Insert University name here], where is that?" I cheerfully responded, "Nashville." The Penn State alum responds with, "Oh, Texas!"
To be fair, I don't think they cover the southern states at Penn. Sadly, I did not get an offer letter.