Unemployment: Day 77 in Business Days; Day 107 in Human Days
It's been 7 hours and 107 days...since they took my job away.
I have a job interview tomorrow. A huge job interview. For a great job. With a fantastic company that shall remain nameless. This potential situation has been in the works for 2 months. I've already met with a big wig there twice. Tomorrow I meet with five more people. I've been in anxious anticipation of this meeting for what seems like eons. And yet tonight, as I near the verge of what everyone keeps telling me is such an amazing opportunity, I find myself terrified and sick to my stomach. No no, not for reasons you'd assume. I'm not very nervous about the interviews. Nope, that would be too easy for a complicated freak like me. What I'm terrified of is that they'll love me, make me an offer I can't refuse, and put me back behind a desk and in pumps, stripping away all this freedom I've enjoyed for the past three months.
I know, I know, this so-called "freedom" that I speak of hasn't been all fun and games, that's for sure. I lost my apartment. I'm shacking up with grandma in da Bronx. I question my self worth on a daily basis. I got a little fat. And then too skinny. And then a little fat again. My social life is in the crapper. I've contemplated doing all sorts of ridonculous things for money, ranging from giving blood to donating eggs to being a dominatrix. So it hasn't all been a bed of roses.
But there has been a silver lining. I've had the chance to travel a little bit, albeit on a Payless-shoestring budget. And I've had the time to focus on a lot of my creative endeavors. And I've made such considerable headway in stalking my ex-boyfriend online! Restraining order, here I come! Major thank you, by the way, to my dear friend Missy, who told me today that everyone goes crazy and stalks their ex and wants to scream at them "I love you! I hate you! I love you!" I'm not sure I believe her. I don't think my robot of an ex is experiencing those urges. But it makes me feel better knowing that at least Missy does.
But back to me! I'm terrified of having this newfound freedom taken away from me. Poorness and idleness and Law-&-Order-ness aside, it's been nice to have "me" time. It's been nice to think about what's truly important to me and how I really want to earn a living for the rest of my life when I stop eating macaroons and get off my fat ass.
But I've got to give this interview my very best shot regardless of these last-minute jitters.
I always get a manicure before a big interview. I haven't had reason to get a manicure for a while. I was gonna just go to Jenny's Lucky Nail on Tremont Ave up here in da Bronx (do you think "Jenny From the Block" is her jam?), but when I was downtown today, I passed a new spa on Lex and 80th. They were having a grand opening, 30% off special, so even though it was Manhattan prices, the discount kept it within my poor ass budget. While Kim, the very smiley Korean woman, filed away at my nails, my heart pounded as I dwelled on my potential amazing opportunity slash prison sentence. So when Kim offered me a special half-price 1-hour massage, I decided to splurge on some pre-interview relaxation.
So, um...have you ever heard of a Happy Ending? Um, right, who hasn't. (I just chuckled to myself at having capitalized "Happy Ending," like it's something official like a book title. "How to Win Happy Endings and Influence People!" "Who Moved My Happy Ending?" "Rich Dad, Poor Happy Ending" "HAPPY ENDING!" Ok, just had to try that on for size. The immaturity stops here, I promise you. For now.) I always assumed Happy Endings were the stuff of urban legends...of Playboy, soft core porn, college boy fantasies. Until today.
I didn't exactly receive a Happy Ending. That would require a penis, I think. And an...um...ending. But Kim did get a little freaky with her fingers at one point. Okay, it happened twice. Oh dear me! The first time my butt clenched as a reflex and I let out a mini yelp, but I gave good old Kim the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was an honest slip of the wrist. Down there. For 10 seconds.
But the second time?! Really?! That's when I realized I must be the lucky recipient of some uptown massage table action. It didn't happen at the end of the massage. And it wasn't...um...completed. So I don't think Happy Ending is the appropriate terminology. Let's call it a "Content Middle." Turns out you don't have to go to Jenny's Lucky Nails in da Bronx to get lucky.
I wonder if this job I'm up for is a "Content Middle." A little tease that would keep me somewhat satiated for a bit, but not really the big bang Happy Ending that I crave and need. And don't I deserve that Happy Ending? A real, true, honest to Bono explosion of fireworks that makes me giddy at the thought of the alarm going off on Monday morning? I guess all I can do for now is go to the interview, give it my best shot, and hope that one day I get lucky...and happy, at the workplace.
Kim, wherever you are tonight, I want you to know, as rap group '2 Live Crew' said so sweetly back in '89, "Me so horny. Me love you long time." And can I add tip to the credit card?
In other news, I think I buried the lead.
Jobless City Challenge: Take a chance on a new establishment in order to save 30% and get unexpected nookie bonus.
Money Saved: About $35. Special Price Manicure and Massage Complete with "Content Middle" - $69. Cheaper then a membership on J Date! And no, the irony of the total cost is not lost on me AT ALL.