After writing such a stupid poem poking fun at my miserable husband's cough, it was only appropriate that it would turn out to be The Plague. The universe loves golden opportunities like this. Oh, you think coughing is bad? How about not breathing? Yeah, write a poem about THAT at 2:00 in the morning while you're on the phone with the advice nurse. So, yeah. Chris' cough was, um... (small voice) severe asthma. But, we're all better.
Moving right along! *claps*
Seeing as how March 31 is only weeks away, I asked Chris yesterday if he had followed up with his boss about "The Mix". Of course he hadn't because HE HADN'T THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
(And why would he? When we have pleeeeenty of money in the bank for all the black beans a girl and her cat can eat in a week.)
So, at my urging he did follow up and was told "it looks good" or "it's coming together" or something else completely unhelpful. I'm not sure how close exactly they want him to get to his last day before they let him in on the secret that is "The Mix". I'm thinking maybe they'll wait until he gets in his car with his picture frames and action figures and then his boss will pop up from the backseat and be all "psyche". Because, seriously.
So, I interviewed last week with a little bank you may have heard of. I can't tell you the name, but it rhymes with J.P. Smorgan. Everything went well other than that I was wearing a suit that made me look exactly like an airline pilot. And the entire interview was made up of those ridiculous standard interview questions like "If you saw a puppy, would you kick it?".
I tried to sound unique and smart and professional in my answers, but it was a daunting task to try to come up with new ways to describe my CONFLICT RESOLUTION SKILLS and TIME MANAGEMENT STRENGTHS and DID I MENTION I'M A PEOPLE PERSON WITH A FLEXIBLE SCHEDULE WHO SOMETIMES LANDS PLANES ON RIVERS?
And then, and I have NO IDEA WHY, as I shook his hand at the end of the interview I said "I'll hear from you soon". I think I probably meant to say "I HOPE to hear from you soon", but I'm really not sure. All I know is that a strange look flickered across his face like he was deciding whether this was a threat or maybe I was just psychic?
Still, it was like a gut punch when the H.R. woman told me a few days later "they decided to move forward with another candidate". (Obviously a puppy kicker.)
Of course they did. Because it's not like the position paid almost six figures and was 15 minutes from home and would have allowed me to take Savannah out of after school care and provide my family with medical insurance at the exact time when we're going to need it.
On the upside I did return the airline pilot suit to TJ Maxx and bought my cats a scratching post, so at least my priorities are still in order.