What I Lack in Ambition I Make Up For With Useless Wit

Today I didn’t get another job. I wasn’t too terribly upset about this because it wasn’t exactly my dream job, but I definitely would have accepted it, had it been offered. I’m trying not to get discouraged about these sort of things, mostly because there are so many other things to be discouraged about, but when it comes down to it, I want a job because I really don’t like jobhunting. Not that anyone would list it as a hobby, but interviews make me feel weird and false, like too much polite smalltalk at someone’s wedding. The strange part is that I think I’m actually pretty good at them, the same way I’m good at meeting people’s parents or chatting up your great aunt, but afterwards, I still want to drive my car too fast and sing along with The Clash, or eat french fries and drink beer and curse a lot, or open a vein.

I think what it comes down to is that I always feel vaguely uncomfortable selling myself. I know I’m smart and resourceful and a good worker, but trying to convince complete strangers of this over and over again makes me tired, and makes me believe it less myself. I’m the same way when it comes to boys: I just sort of hope that someday someone decent will notice that I’m cool, even though I’m not not wearing a bra, or crawling into your lap.

Sometimes I think it would be a lot more interesting for everyone involved in the job interview process if you smiled, shook hands and said, “I’m stimulated by distractions and free snacks, spend too much time on the internet, and am consistently fifteen minutes late everywhere I go.”

Or, you know, maybe I should try the crawling-into-the-lap bit.