Finally, Ladies & Gentlemen.
The Cubicle Rebel has finally landed yet another job interview.
Get your whistles out. Blow your party favors on my behalf.
ON CHRISTMAS WEEK?!
[Wow, they must be hard-up. But I’ll take it.]
The job I previously held came to an end (even though I sometimes write in present tense as if I still have a job so that I can make fun of the office environment adequately) a while ago so I’m down to canned goods and groveling. Forget the holidays; I’m pretending they don’t exist this year so as not to plummet into a major depression slash calorie extravaganza slash can’t-afford-a-therapist-anyway situation.
So anyhoos I’m all excited and phlklempt and thinking of what to wear (pants or skirt(?) and how awful my Microsoft Excel chart “skills” are and OMG what if they ask me to take an MS Office Suite test?!!) and then I look down and realize that I’ve bitten off nine of my fingernails.
Yep. Just call me Nubby. Or Nubbs.
I’d show you a picture but you’d regurgitate your vending machine treats.
So now I’m paranoid and hoping The Interviewer doesn’t happen to look down at my fingernails and notice that they’re tragic and monstrous and show signs of a nervous Nelly type.
Maybe I’ll wear a nice brooch. Yeah, that should sway her attention away from my Elm Street fingers.
Disclaimer: If I land the gig, fret not…I will still badmouth authorities and co-plan Establishment escapes with you. It will always be Us against Them.