Over the Rainbow

After much heartburn and belly aching later over not finding suitable employment, I decided to join an agency that will help me to find a temporary job.  As such, I finally got a long coveted interview. After rejoicing for thirty seconds, it dawned on me that I have not been interviewed in over ten years, by virtue of being asked to work or adopted into work for my previous jobs.  This brought on a whole new set of digestive disorder like symptoms, and then later, an entire comedic series of events.

Thanks to my five week course on job preparation, I had practiced answering questions. The location of the place I was to go was a long distance from my ghetto fabulous apartment, by transit at least, so I decided Google was my friend and memorized the map of where I needed to be.

It would take me two buses, one train and a mighty long walk to get there. I might or might not have needed a broomstick. That morning, I was up and at it early. Our five year old, Lanes, was doing her usual morning routine of alternating between flailing and going limp on the sofa in an effort to avoid getting dressed and drinking her milk. Don’t even get me started on breakfast. She was stunned that I paid her no mind.

I was focused on getting ready and double and triple checking my route. Some say I’m anal retentive, but I would rather describe myself as meticulously cautious. My OCD paid off, because guess what? The bus I was supposed to take was cancelled! So was the one fifteen minutes before it.

I had no choice but to take an alternate route, which would give me some time to spare. When I was taking the second bus, I felt slightly glad for this mishap because the ride seemed to go on for what felt like forever. We were definitely not in Burnaby anymore.

I tried clicking my heels to escape, but it didn't work. I  was relieved I asked the bemused bus driver to let me know when my stop came up, because I was on literally unfamiliar terrain and the signs on the inside of the bus were not working.

After a small eternity, the bus driver called out my stop on the intercom. I was glad I was proactive and alerted him to my cluelessness, because otherwise, I surely would have missed this unmarked spot.  As I approached the exit, he asked me if I was new in town and if I’m on the way to an interview.

I guess I must have really been channeling Lil Bo Beep’s lost sheep that day. Now slightly disheartened that my appearance was giving away my country song of a story, I said I was and told him this was a long ways for me. I was nervous about the interview, but not sure of it because of the commute.

He turned to me wisely and told me that he came to Canada from Singapore, and in a market such as this, if anyone offers me a job, I should take it. He then wished me luck, gave me specific directions on how to get to my interview (because I had about a 10k walk ahead of me) and packed me off. It was a perfect Fairy Godmother moment--perhaps I should have left a shoe on the bus, but with my luck, that might have been considered littering.

Something about this conversation made me feel like the universe was giving me a message, and suddenly I had a fire in my belly to do well in the interview. It was a very different feeling from the indigestion I was having earlier, so off I went down the yellow brick road (metaphorically speaking).

After a very long walk, I approached my destination—still an hour ahead of time. And lo and behold, there was nowhere else for me to while away the time. It was just me and not even a tumbleweed in this vast openness of residencies and industrial wasteland. Didn’t anyone tell Starbucks that there was this uncolonized expanse of land? Why didn't they get the memo?

So I was standing outside, now eating Lanes' teddy grahams to appease my butterflies, pacing, and yakking on the phone with my dutiful spouse, P, and my buddy Janine (you know the one who I constantly accuse of trespassing). I told them I fear that I look like the friendly neighborhood street walker, so after a consensus we decided it best if my frozen digits and I went in and asked to sit around the lobby until it was go time.

I explained my bus debacle at the front desk and waited politely in the lobby, making chit chat with the extremely welcoming receptionist. So it turns out the downfall of coming early, is watching the competition walk out.

She looked like she fell out of some corporate magazine. Calm and collected, flashy suit, shiny shoes, professional briefcase/purse. Here I am five foot four inches of hot mess from ghetto fabulous. All I had was my integrity, work ethic and experience, and none of that could be seen from the outside.

If we were on a reality show with music videos, she would have walked out in slow motion with a Pussycat Dolls song playing in the background. As for me, I'd be sitting on the chair to the tune of frogs croaking in a well and Honey Boo Boo as a backdrop.

My heart sank as I watched her leave the office. I looked as sad as a deflated Good Year blimp, and I think the receptionist caught my look because she smiled sadly at me. I felt like the loyal frumpy wife watching the glamorous young girlfriend.

I kept the bus driver's words in my head and tried to not let it throw me off my game. The interview was only half an hour, with very specific questions. I felt I rambled on. I was not sure how it went, and I was so disappointed in myself that I got on the wrong train and didn't even realize until three stops later.

Conveniently, it was at a large mall, so I cheered myself up with fast food—which only resulted in making me miss the bus home. Eventually, I did get home. By that time, half of my attempt at a hair do had flopped on my face. Bobby pins, like belts and white pants, are not a friend of mine apparently.

With that I must sign off, and check my mail and phone for some good news. More musings from BC next week…if not, I might be stuck in some industrial wasteland again looking up in the sky for flying houses. Feel free to leave comments…