Last week? A cake-walk.

This afternoon I went in for a second interview at the same place I interviewed last week. I thought about this one a little bit more ahead of time but nothing could have prepared me for the Spanish Inquisition I encountered. ( "No one expects the Spanish Inquistion...!")( Okay- so I wasn't interrogated in Spanish...but...it was almost as stressful as if I had been.) If last week I was a bug under the microscope, this week I was the paramecium being jabbed in order to observe its response to painful stimulus.

I don't feel like re-living it a second time so I will spare you the exhaustive ( and exhaustING) detailed account .... but it was a little surreal at times. The man - who is the company's co-founder/owner/or something important- who did most of the talking reminded me of Martin Sheen and he asked me many multi-part questions that I would have liked to have had in writing about three or four days ago, so I could have prepared an essay response at my leisure in the comfort of my own home. What a wicked on the spot/ fly by the seat of your skirt feeling. And we delved more deeply than I liked into my weaknesses/failures/insecurities. Man! You would think I was applying for some high powered executive position- not a receptionist job. I felt like saying," What is this- a shrink's office? A Chinese Communist self-criticsm session?" Good grief! I felt completely pulverized and gnawed and like my very pores were being scrutinized.

Near the end, the Martin Sheen big shot- who was, to be fair, pretty nice over all- said something like, "How do you think this interview is going?" Is this a standard question in an interview, my readers? Has anyone been asked this in a similar situation? Perhaps it was an understandable question based on the context of what we were talking about but I felt like saying something along the lines of, " Would you ask a frog you were dissecting how the dissection was going?"

Miraculously, only by the sheer grace of God, I think I was able to pretty much stay poised and at least appear semi-comfortable and keep up a pretense of being somewhat confident through the time. I did feel like crying at one point but hopefully they didn't notice. And Martin Sheen did say he had been a little hard on me. What was I supposed to say to that? "Oh good- so it wasn't all just in my head? You really WERE aware that you were putting me through the meat grinder? You ADMIT that you're a sadist? Well. How nice for you!"

I went grocery shopping at an unfamiliar store after that and wandered the aisles in a distracted daze, talking to Brad on my phone.

And then I got a Cookies and Cream milkshake at Chik-fil-A on my way home, to console myself. Yay! Your prize for surviving a horrific interview is....more calories!!!

The problem is, I think they're going to offer me the job. My gut tells me so. A normal, sane person would probably be excited about this. Maybe a little nervous, but excited. I'm not. This job would pay me better than any job I have ever had. And right now I want to go fall down a well or something. It's not that I don't think I could do this job. I'm sure that after the initial yucky first couple of months where you're learning stuff and asking questions all day and making mistakes and feeling stupid, it will be fine. So I don't know what my problem is.

I think I have issues. I am abnormal. I think I want to become a nun. Okay- a married nun. One of those Eeyore-ish, hermit-ish, married nuns. And if there isn't a career in that, I will be the first one.

Okay. It's time to stop the sarcastic negativity. *pulls self up by the proverbial boot straps*

Que sera sera, and all that.