It has been an interesting week, to say the least. Interviews, snowstorms and parties. Friday morning was a meltdown. Not a good way to start the day. Call from woman I work with, Christina who said she was going to be late, since she was waiting for the Town car to pick her up. Nice. She gets a town car I get the bus. I know she jacked up her knee in October, and had surgery 3 weeks ago, but come on… I don’t want to seem unsympathetic, but people who have it worse than her take Public Transportation.

It was a mess getting into the city yesterday morning. I got to the bus stop when the bus was there and I was waving my arms hoping that the driver would see me. He didn’t. Had to wait 25 minutes for the next bus. Then the bus was mad crowded. Then the streets were slippery once you got into the city. I was wearing my work boots. I tell people I bought them at the Fred Gwynn estate sale, they look like Herman Munster boots. Some people actually believe me.

I don’t know why the day started so badly. I was certainly depressed. The holiday party was later on and not many people wanted to go. It seemed like there was a lot of dread regarding the whole thing. I couldn’t help but make comparisons to Jonestown. Then I had to explain what Jonestown was. A joke just isn’t funny if you have to essplain it.

I had an interview on Thursday. 2nd Thursday interview, right around the block from the Royal Bank of Scotland at 40th st and Lexington. In a crazy overheated conference room comprised of two chairs and an end table, I met with 4 people, and was scheduled to meet a fifth but had to return to Wanker Banker land. I didn’t think either way whether or not the interviews went well. At least not at that time. Later in the evening I thought about it and was surprised at my cheeky nature when I complimented the final interviewer on his braces. Also mentioned this blog, which as soon as I said it, realized I shouldn’t have said it.

I told him it was under construction and tried to convince myself that the web page was johnosaid, instead of johnozed. I just didn’t want him to read what I had written previously about Wanker Banker and Hope. All that might not go over too well.

SO I was a grouchy bitch most of Friday until after I ate lunch and had a brief meeting with Jamie, who I respect. She’s the office manager, a position she doesn’t want and feels I should have. She mentioned that at this time next year, I should be the office manager. I mentioned that I had promoted myself twice for that position and was rejected both times. Didn’t want to do that again.

She said she told John McGruff (dipshit) words to that effect and that she wouldn’t be able to do her job properly if it wasn’t for my input. Awfully nice of her. In the back of my mind I was chuckling about the thought of being at Wanker Banker for another year. Seemed mean to think that, but it’s the truth. I’ve been going on interviews, and sending out my resume. I couldn’t say anything to Jamie about it.

Perhaps if they knew, the powers that be that is, they would make an effort to make me stay. But I really doubt that. Hope caused a lot of damage. The rose colored glasses are off and I see the office as not a healthy place for me.

The office holiday party was at 6PM. I decided to not go with my coworkers and to walk from 56th and Park Ave to 18th Street and Sixth Avenue. I wanted to smoke my cigar, walk off the office frustration, and smoke a joint before I got to the party. I was able to do all three.

The party was odd. No spouses this year. The Wanker Bankers were outnumbered by the National Bank of Wishful thinking. They were cordial. Shook hands and clinked glasses with familiar faces who’s names are still unknown and wished them all a Happy Holiday. The food was good, and many Heinekens were drunk by me, causing me to get drunk. Not sloppy, not mean, just buzzed.

Got a town car home, as most everyone else who lived out of the city. Danny was my driver from Jamaica. I got out and climbed the steps and was able to convince Julio to come upstairs and have some beers and watch Paul McCartney’s live DVD.

That is all.

The interview ritual. Los interviewes ritualoso. A drag by any other name is still a drag.
Interesting happenstances on the job search today. Well, one started yesterday. Some agency, Advantage Human Resource located in the Jesus Chrysler building, saw my resume that I’ve sent out through various online job search engines. It seems, or so Neil said, that I would be perfect for an admin position for Goldman Sachs in Jersey City.

Sweet. Look at me, corporate whore! I laugh. After being ‘indie’ for so long, I find myself pimpin out my services to the best price I can get. I played the boho route, and it was fun, but had no health benefits. This scene has the benefits and I dress sharper. And dressing sharper is a benefit in itself. I enjoy it to the point of fetishizing.

The Jesus Chrysler building is an Art Deco marvel. I’d love to work in the office of Advantage Human Resources, but I’d probably fall out a window. They’re the old fashioned windows, probably like the kind in your apartment if you lived in Washington Heights. Why Washington Heights? I don’t know.

So I went and filled out their online application. Told the truth at the college part. Me no go. Me hang around smart people. Me sponge. They have pretty paper. Me have friends with pretty paper.

That actually hung me up years ago. I had an interview at Arista Records in the nineties, before I actually worked there. Had an interview with Naughty Aloyuisis, a nice A&R friend of my friend Jimmy B. It was going great. Very comfy and cozy. Then Shenequa entered the picture. She was Naughty’s boss. She sat in, looked at my resume and asked, “So, where did you go to college?”

I had to think fast. Columbia, big university. Could lose my records there somehow. NYU? Hip, sleek, modern. They’d have my records. Or maybe, yes, quite possibly, Bergen Community College. I told Suzanne, “ I didn’t go to college.” “Oh ok. Thanks for coming.” That was it. Interview over. Rani had no say in the matter and probably got chewed out by the the one named Shenequa.

I eventually got a job at Arista, working for Shenequa directly. She had no clue. She turned out to be mean to everyone but me and she was understanding when Zed died.
The fake diploma must’ve helped.

So I sat with Neil who says he holds the keys to the magic world of Goldman Sachs. I would be perfect. He was dragging it out, I was watching the clock. Then he ended the interview, and gave me an eighth of a ream of paper to fill out, telling me to just skip parts that I have questions about.

I started writing and realized what a pain in the ass this was. I also had to get back to the office. This was my lunch hour now going over 90 minutes.

But there was a ray of possibility, but not with Neil. I had an interview a few weeks ago at Skadden, the largest law firm in The USA. Bill works there as a temp and was able to get me in for an interview. That went well until I mentioned that Bill and I were partners. The woman, Laurie said that because of that, she wouldn’t be able to hire me. Nepotism. Bill didn’t know. I certainly didn’t. I said, ‘But we’re separated! It wasn’t legally binding!’ No dice.

So I figured my chance at bat with Skadden was over. But today, I got a call from Laurie who asked if it was ok to forward my resume to Lawrence a headhunter for the sixth largest bank in the world. Has a bone through his nose. Spanky’s Uncle. I spoke with Lawrence several times this morning, so I hope everything is progressing nicely.

So it was a very Zen interview day, though I still find them a drag. Whee!

I really hope he likes me.