Arrrgh!!

Well. That could have gone better.

I realize that not everyone may have the context for that remark. Let me fill you in. I had a job interview today. 'Nuff said? Well too bad, I'm going to say more anyway.

I had been sending a lot of applications to this company on their own special online job board thingamajig, and happily enough, someone actually called me - it happened to be while I was about to walk into the food bank, a few days ago, so I did a phone interview outside, and it went well. I took a while to think before answering some questions and it was hard to hear the lady on the phone, but we got through it. I just needed her to repeat a few things. And she set me up an appointment to go to an interview today. Great!

I spent the weekend looking forward to it, thinking, relaxing, arguing with my boyfriend as usual and rolling up random D&D characters. It's been a while since I've done that. I went price shopping online, and attempted to do so in person, but that didn't work out too well, for hard hats and steel-toed shoes, as the phone interviewer had informed me I'd need them for work if I got the job. I sent my price quotes from the internet to Ontario Works requesting funding for job search related equipment... and told a bunch of my friends about it with excitement , getting nearly half a dozen people wishing me good luck and success.

And now the day has come. I had a good feeling about this, and was optimistic... even confident! I got my references printed and called up the only one I hadn't contacted by email to notify her and make sure handing her name in was all okay. Yep, no problem there. I gave myself a bit of praise after the phonecall, despite being in a public place where people could hear me: "You did it! Yay! Well done..." Phonecalls always stress me out. Calling people I haven't spoken to in ages, much moreso.

I dressed up really nice in a collared shirt tucked into snugly fitting black pants. I cleaned my shoes, which had gotten a bit grungy, and even tried buffing them with a rag and some vegetable oil in the hopes it would bring out a bit of a shine. I realize this is not normally the way to oil shoes, but it doesn't seem to have turned out badly. I prepared my padded folder with my resume and references, packed an assortment of things I'd need into the purse I never use unless I want to look professional, donned my business jacket and headed out to get there early... So early, in fact, that I had half an hour to kill before showing up, so I hung out in a nearby bank, chatting with Damon on the phone, and used the bathroom at a restaurant, until it was a quarter to my appointment, and I headed in.

And the place was pleasant, and the many staff members I saw made every move to be friendly and helpful. My interviewer showed up with a warm and welcoming smile and brought me with polite smalltalk to the staff training area, a cozy place with lockers and paper notes stuck on cabinets, and a handful of smiling workers on break. We sat down in a small room to do the interview proper, two interviewers with bundles of papers and pens to take notes, and me, across the table from them. I handed them my updated resume and pointed out that I had taken a First Aid and CPR course since submitting the one online that they already had. Then came the questions. For the first several, I gave good, solid answers that I'm sure were pretty close to ideal. How do I present myself to customers, knowing I'm the last contact they may have with us? With a smile. Always with a smile. The interviewer who'd come to get me seemed to beam while writing my answers, or whatever other observations she was making, down.

I feel I should have mentioned something specifically about dealing with the specific complaints when asked what I'd do if a customer approached me rudely with complaints about a product, rather than only saying I'd take a breath, talk to them calmly, and try to smile anyway if I could, get through it... But that wasn't the big mistake.

I was asked how I've dealt with tasks that required both speed and accuracy, and I froze for a moment, unable to think of one. This would have been fine, if I hadn't grasped for the first answer to come to mind: cleaning... And spoken about how in housekeeping, I was great at being thorough, which makes for a comparable attribute to accuracy, I suppose, but could lag behind sometimes... But getting faster was probably just a matter of learning. After that answer, my interviewers said they had no more questions, and closed their interview booklets, though there looked to be quite a few pages left, and the announcement was abrupt. They asked me if I had any questions myself, and I was startled and grasped again... So I asked about how long it would be before I should expect to hear back from someone, and who I'd be hearing back from if I was contacted. Which is a fair question. I'm not disappointed about that. We chatted a little about the extra paperwork that hiring season meant for them, and I was escorted to the exit. It wasn't until I left the building that I realized I'd forgotten to hand them the sheet of references I'd gone out of my way to contact and prepare, and we hadn't touched on the two pieces of I.D. I had been asked to bring to the interview... And hadn't someone said something about "training", not just an interview?

Arrgh... I guess I just got nervous, and flubbed up. I felt embarrassed failure heavy on my shoulders as I left... I automatically turned toward the bus stop... But turned myself around again to buy some milk I knew I needed from a grocery store which happened to be right next to it... And after walking past the store again, and half way down the block... I realized I really was running away in a panic, ruminating that I'd ruined everything and it was too late to go back now.

So I stopped, and I turned around again, and I walked back to the store, and approached the lady at customer service that I'd approached originally, no doubt blushing, and admitted I'd forgotten to give the interviewers my reference sheet. She called them for me, took it, and promised to give it to them, and I skulked off again... but at least it was possible now that my work updating the sheet and calling my old volunteer manager wasn't entirely wasted. I left the building for a second  time feeling like I had failed, but at least won the booby prize for facing my fears and facing up to a silly mistake... This is probably cognitive behavioral therapy.

So, let me take a moment to review my performance here, and note on the failures, and on the successes of today's interview...

Good:

Preparation: I kept an eye on how much time I expected to have throughout the day, and got everything together quite well. I made sure I had everything I needed before I headed out the door, including blank thank-you cards and a pencil and eraser, in the handbag I prepared rather than taking my less professional looking backpack. I even had a slip of paper with where I was going by address and sketched map, who I was to ask for at what desk, and a phone number to call in case somehow I was late and needed to get in touch. I had taken care to eat and drink, and use the bathroom, before leaving, so that I wouldn't be interviewed on an empty stomach or while uncomfortable, and I got a healthy dose of pep talk from my friends before heading out. If I could go to all my interviews so well prepared, that would be an excellent thing.

Presentation: When I realized how casually all the employees were dressed, I felt overdressed in my blazer. Afterall, I had been instructed that a casual business shirt and pants were probably what I should try for. So, I stuffed my blazer into my handbag, and felt professional and well-dressed, but not quite so needlessly fancy. I took my hair down when I walked into the building, having brushed it thoroughly at home, and I smiled and spoke politely to everyone I met, thanking my interviewer, for instance, when she held the door for me. I remembered to make frequent eye contact during the interview, and while my smile probably flagged at some point, or else seemed nervous, I am sure I was smiling.

Thank-You Cards: Not just bringing them with me, but I stopped and sat at a table to write a short and casual but heartfelt thank you with good wishes for the coming year and hopes to see you again at work, to each of the two interviewers, being sure not to make them too alike so it didn't seem I just copied them from one another. I was already aware I'd messed up, and tried the thank-you card thing anyway. I deserve credit for that. It was definitely a good thing.

Bad:

References WITH Resume: I forgot to hand them my references because I waited to be prompted for them and then forgot. I should have handed them in with or immediately after my resume, without waiting. Then, we could have spoken about that then. I need to remember that it's okay to start the references conversation rather than waiting for someone else to.

An Answer... Any Answer...: Faced with the thick silence, I panicked and didn't take the time to think thoroughly before I spoke. I remember going over this in a training thing once a long time ago. Yes, the silence is daunting, but don't feel the need to fill it... It's okay to take a few whole minutes to calmly think about the question, particularly when it's about what I have dealt with in the past. That's what I needed to do here to keep my composure, and come up with an example that doesn't make me look like I'd need training to achieve basic competence. Tasks that require accuracy and speed... Um... like cleaning? No, dumbass, like making change. The thing that applies to the cashier position you're applying for. Which I am fantastic at doing quickly without making any mistakes, by the way. That's why my cash till totals back at Saint Vincent de Paul's were often exactly, to the penny, what they were supposed to be at the end of the day.

Too Cool: I think my smalltalk may have been a bit forced. I wish I'd worked more with the talk the interviewers gave me, and maybe asked some casual questions of them, relaxed a little more, and let myself feel personal with them a bit, to be more at my ease. I wish I'd voiced my thoughts that the staff training room was really neat and that the whole place felt incredibly friendly. I was trying too hard and being too careful, I really was.

And in the end... Well. I screwed up. But it's not the end of the world, right? While making some macaroni and cheese after coming home with painfully frostnipped fingers, and thinking about this, I found The Roses of Success wandering around unexpectedly inside my head. I... dealt with that rather well, in the end, didn't I? I caught myself running away, and marched back, red-faced but ready to make what reparations I could. While heading home, I focussed on allowing myself to feel embarrassed and think on what exactly I'd done wrong, without panicking and ruminating on how I'd never be able to do it right. I was all set up for success, and ended up with failure... And this means that I have got a good handle on preparation, and need to practice and improve my execution. I impressed and got an interview with my resume... A couple now, actually. That bit seems to be working. Now I get to make this set of mistakes. And learn from them.

I did always like that song...

Froom the ashes oof disaster groow the roses of success~!

Singin' With My Sisters

Thursday is Music Jam day from 11 to noon at My Sister's Place. I'm not really there often, but I've been there and enjoyed the music a few times. I usually stand against a pillar and sing along, as everyone else does  sitting around the tables, while whoever's at the microphone sings and the accompanists play piano and/or ukulele...

Skill levels vary. Anyone's welcome to take the mic. I never have here before. I know I'm more than good enough that my singing would be enjoyed... but there's too much chance of choking or freezing up, either due to my social anxiety, or because I'm too touched by the song to keep my voice steady. It's a genuine risk with some tunes, especially Hallelujah.

Today, near the end of the session, I actually got up myself to sing a song. Yesterday, by the Beatles, one of a reasonable but small handful of songs in the Music Jam songbook that I know, and like, well enough to be interested in singing. It took a little steel, but wasn't as hard as it might have been, and much like playing piano, I got a fair few compliments afterward. No complaints. This time, anyway. Someone who had been trying to get me to sing gave me a double thumbs up from across the room, and I think I heard the pianist say through the crowd that I made her day. She did definitely mention that no-one sings that song, despite how beautiful it is, because the range is so broad it's almost inevitably either too high in the highest parts or too low in the lowest ones. It's true. I had to shift awkwardly between chest and head voice to sing it, but I remembered the tune and rhythm and enjoyed singing.

It was a little awkward also because I couldn't hear my voice coming through the speaker while I was behind the mic, so I couldn't tell how well it was coming through. Ah, well. What's important, and true, is that I stood up and took the mic for once rather than singing in the background behind someone else. It was... nice. And probably counts as something towards cognitive behavioral therapy, one of many steps to push my comfort levels and beat back anxiety one moment and one decision at a time.

I also got my hair trimmed and got a big load of laundry done while I was here today. Keeping things in order and modestly maintained... Things keep going. The haircut looks simple and flat-edged to me, but I trust it's not bad. The haircut lady was pleasant and polite, and it was nice being combed. She took care only to cut a little bit, just enough to clean up and get rid of the split ends, rather than shortening it significantly. My hair is still very long, and probably doesn't look that different. I hope the slight improvement in neatness will make me look a little more professional and neat.

Old Battles

Whoa. I just got through writing an email to my mom. It probably went on for about three pages of ancient hostility and ranting that I have badly needed to say directly to her for... far, far too long. I rather doubt it's the road to peace, but it may be a fog that needs to be cleared before I can travel that road. Despite the weight I've thrown her, I have high hopes, and it is a relief to finally voice some of my resentment after so long. Who knows? It may not be too late.

I'll try to brace myself for an equally hostile response and be forgiving toward it, even if it's shrouded in words of sweetness and steeped in the role of the victim. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Dare the conflict. Ride it out.

Maybe this is the start of something vital and important. We'll see.

One Man's Trash

I stayed up all night again. This time it isn't Puppy's fault, though he contributed, for the last few hours of it. I wanted to make sure to be up for an event that was happening today right on my block: the Impact Junk Solutions Open House. The company is a garbage removal service, but it seems that when they pick up trash that isn't as trashy as usual and may be of interest to someone, they stash it in their warehouse and occasionally let anyone who is in need of furniture or other household goods come with their cars, trailers, or on foot, and take away anything they would like from the collection of thrown-away items. I've been needing furniture since moving in, so naturally, I went. I was not disappointed with what I found. The staff helped me load some furniture I could not have carried into a shopping cart to trundle home and back.

Not everything made it inside in one piece, sadly. A nice chest of drawers I'd found took too much shock to the joints while I was awkwardly maneuvering the heavy thing down the stairs by myself, and the frame came apart, nails and screws having been jarred loose. One of the nubby plastic legs also broke. The drawers themselves and the rollers, though, are completely sound. I think with a hammer and some new nails, and perhaps a pair of pliers, I can salvage it and return it to stability and usefulness, though it won't be as pretty as it was, due to places in the sides where the nails ripping away tore chunks off the edge of the particle board.

More successful was the transport of a rather tall and skinny little wooden desk, with four drawers in it. It lost a strip of surface false wood texture on one side of the top, and got slightly scuffed, but is still very pretty and perfectly stable and solid, as a desk should be. I brought home a short, shabby office chair and a thick pillow to raise the effective level of the seat, too, and now I actually have a functional chair and desk for my ridiculous excuse for a laptop... and for a better one, once I am able to get one.

One more piece of furniture was amongst my loot, a squat, slightly bulky end table with a single hollow storage space inside, accessed by decoratively carved double doors, made to look like dark red wood and also good and stable.

Other items I brought home (that made it without breaking):
2 candle holders
1 large red candle
1 plastic basket
1 woven basket
1 dollar store travel mug that seems new
2 large stacking paper trays
1 square cookie tin
1 nearly new board game of uncertain entertainment value called "HearMeOut!"
5 garish pink striped bedsheets
2 garish pink patterned pillowcases
1 long peach curtain
2 other bedsheets
1 other pillowcase
1 small pink throw blanket
11 saucers
9 large plates
4 small plates
2 teacups
2 shot glasses
6 bowls of varying sizes
1 segmented snack dish
1 juice pitcher
1 small ice cube tray
1 matching set of salt & pepper shakers
11 drinking glasses, assorted plastic and glass
2 small kitchen storage containers
1 wine glass
1 lid that doesn't seem to go with anything
1 lightbulb that happened to be in a box of kitchenware

All in all, I feel rather accomplished, and am quite happy with this haul of stuff. Most of it clearly worn, all of it free, almost all of it definitely useful to me. I think I will probably use the garish pink striped sheets to make triangular bandages for first aid, and then if there's ever a need, I can tie people up with garish pink striped arm slings.

P.S: Apparently there was so much stuff I inevitably had to forget to list some! I also got a box of assorted coathangers, probably around 30 count, and a bar of Irish Spring soap, still in its box.

Status Update

Yeah, there's been some stuff to talk about, but I just haven't been wanting to sit down and write to you guys. Almost a month ago, I broke up with Pup on Valentine's Day. I didn't even realize the timing. We talked a lot, I decided on the terms of One Last Chance, and consented to stay. But he still annoys me almost every day. Over the past two weeks, he's been breaking down after listening in on a conversation between me and a friend of his apparently taught him that despite his pretenses to morality, to logic, to rationality, he doesn't know a goddamn thing. Now for the last two days, something seems to have broken, and his answer to everything is saying "I don't know"; blaming everything on his Aspergers, on overexposure to mercury, on the stimuli he's responding to... including me... and lashing out.

For about a week, I've picked up Fitocracy again; I've been planking, but not really anything else. It's too early to say whether I'll stay with it. I do manage to do it for a while even when I'm really not very into it, though... I just tend to collapse after a minute if my spirit isn't in it or I'm otherwise worn out.

I returned to Writing.com and wrote a few contest entries, the first of which won an on-site prize. The contests I'm entering have a 300 or 100 max word count, and make great practice for cutting stories down to the vital core, making them succinct. I did fall into a jealous habit of comparing my work to the other entries, though, when I didn't win. Or worse, calling into question the taste and legitimacy of the judges. I might post my work here, some of it. I might not.

I've also been doing a little bit of sketching and artwork. For a while, while things were going well with Pup, I sketched him in anime style, something I've never really managed to work in before, and it seemed to go really well. I think of, or say, something funny, and I do a quick sketch of it, sometimes.

This week, I finally got my First Aid/CPR certification, Level C. I felt noble learning the material, and it was a bit of work, mostly because Pup kept me up very late so I was doing the 8-hour courses on four and three hour nights of sleep. The course itself was fun and seems very useful. If I'm ever in an emergency situation, I think I will feel much more confident dealing with it now. There was some confusion with my certificate card, though. The course instructor accidentally filled out the expiry date and the issue date as the same, so that I would be certified for 24 hours, rather than three years. I brought up the mistake to Goodwill, and my card was redone properly. I was told the other staff members laughed at her for the mistake, though that bit didn't make me feel any better.

Yesterday I had a mild, prolonged anxiety attack, apparently prompted by a bunch of people trying to help me with my questions at Goodwill, and someone answering other questions a bit shortly, since he had a lot of different things to do. The attack lasted over two hours and I felt hostile and feeble throughout it. Then came home to Pup and fought for a long time about him failing to aplogize to me or take my feelings into account even when I make them clear, and me being irrational and unstable to a point that he feels he has to be afraid of my leaving him any time he does anything at all.

Today, from the time I woke up, despite doing my planking and having a shower, and despite close to twelve hours of sleep, it felt like the world was slowed down. When I listened to my music, it all sounded slightly but uncannily flat, and I didn't care about it, even though it was music that was usually very powerful to me. I went to Goodwill to retrieve a flash drive I'd forgotten there, and came home immediately. It was obvious to me that I needed to just rest, today, and recover from my stresses... my body and despondent mind were telling me something was wrong and I needed to tend to that before anything else.

It seems much of this, my own participation in all sorts of other activities, including some active job search work, practicing various forms of my artistry... was largely prompted by Pup's computer being fixed, meaning he now has something to spend time with without me having to be there to engage him constantly. The fact that it's now, after this, that his responses to me have seemed to step up again in aggression and disrespect has some very disappointing implications that now that he doesn't need me as much, there's a lot more dissatisfaction and hostility he may have been holding back, that's now out. Perhaps having what he wanted has actually made his mental and emotional condition worse, because he can junkie out on video games and avoid real world responsibilities as much as he wants. I don't really know. Whatever's going on, I don't think this will last long.

P.S: I... just discovered something weird on my Writing.com account. Apparently someone spent $20 on me to get me three months of upgraded account. It was an anonymous gift, with the message: "Keep reviewing!". I... feel kind of stunned. It's weird that some random person on the internet would spent money on me to get me to keep doing reviews of writing... I wonder, is this how Grimith feels?