Living unprofessionally was a lifestyle choice I made a long time ago. It fit in neatly with my high school and college careers of watching TV and binge drinking. I found I had a graceful approach to being casual and nonchalant but it never occurred to me that maybe it was my environment that was really to blame and not my own free will. We’re all vulnerable to our surroundings so instead of the usual red flags that should pop up my carefree attitude was nurtured in my college and high school years and grew into this driving force that would navigate me through all my life encounters. I have come to accept the consequences of my compass and have incorporated it into a charming aspect of my personality. Instead of taking the time and effort to change myself into a better and stronger person I chose to throw my flaws into the broad category of “cute personality quirks” and call it a day. I’m sure this simple reaction is an outcome of my mature immaturity but I’m willing to accept it as another fun little quirk. Despite the success I have had in this amazingly fulfilling and easy lifestyle I have recently discovered that this attitude may not span the appropriate amount of area it once covered.
After graduation my diploma threw the title of “grown up” into my lap. At first I sat there staring at it, playing with the letters hoping to form some other title that would fit more properly into my world. Nothing short of strange sounds could be made so I delightfully embraced the nonsense and assumed the title of “No Grump” (taking the w and flipping it… they are my letters). Unfortunately this title was short lived, I think there was some mention of stepping up to the plate but those abstract concepts are beyond me. The whole “waking up to the real world” process seemed wasted on me and I encouraged my elders to redirect their efforts to someone more malleable.
Despite my resistance I allowed myself to apply for a few jobs and participate in a few interviews. I knew this would be a mistake, my previous interviews had been a few hairs shy from perfect but I figured I got the worst out of my system, besides if I start another small fire at least I can safely say I’m cursed or something. I woke up the morning of my first interview as an “adult” and ripped out my crisp white button down from its dry-clean wrapper. As shreds of plastic fell to the floor a few stuck to my pointy heels and made squishy noises as I ran around my apartment gathering supplies. After my invisible make up had been applied and my hair lightly tousled I grabbed my bag and a post-it with scribbled directions. I looked in the mirror and decided I’m going match this outfit with pleather thigh high boots for Halloween and be a kinky porn star. After striking a few poses I psyched myself up to run out the door because I was running terribly late. I stuck my post-it over the cartoon of my car tipping over if a sharp turn is taken too quickly. Those kind of negative images just repress your energy and I wanted mine to be fresh and free flowing for my interview.
As I belted out the latest single by Kelly Clarkson while speeding through the fast lane I realized that this whole growing up thing couldn’t be so bad. My first attempt to do the right thing and I was having a blast and all dressed up while doing it. I mean the tucked in proper look has never been my style but it may be time for girls like me to start tucking it in. I looked into the rearview mirror and lit a cigarette to match my huge gold aviators as I blasted the next top pop song playing.
I inched up the long road and noticed that the address I was given matched every building located in the complex. The green digital numbers on the clock mocked me as it moved closer to fashionably late. Panicked I dialed the office and asked for assistance.“Hello, hi. My name is Nisma and I have an appointment with Mr. Robert Chew at one o’clock and I seem to be lost in your parking lot. Is there any way you can give me some kind of landmark to find your office?” I said in my most professional tone.“Oh honey, I am so sorry but I’m new here and can’t really help you. Let me transfer you to Mr. Chew and he can assist you,” she calmly said as if her job wasn’t to do her few and limited menial tasks such as being able to identify the building she was currently in. She obviously knew or else she would be outside chain smoking next to me.“No, wait. Please, I have an interview with Mr. Chew and I don’t want him to think I can’t find the building.” I desperately pleaded with the incompetent secretary while slowly taking another long drag of my cigarette.
“Ok, let me see what I can do.” She said as she transferred me over to Mr. Chew’s desk.“Hello, hi. My name is Nisma and I have an appointment with Mr. Robert Chew at one o’clock and I seem to be lost in your parking lot and I really need to find it cuz I’m going to be late. The secretary had no idea what the building looked like and she transferred me to you.” I said quickly in a high-pitched tone that dripped with anxiety.“Hi Nisma, this is Robert.”
“Oh. Hello, hi. I’m sorry I thought this was going to be another secretary, the other one… the new one, told me she would transfer me to another secretary.” I babbled on…“That’s ok Nisma, lets see if I can help. The building I’m in has lots of windows and three floors.” He stated as if I should have already known that. I looked around and saw to my dismay that every building seemed to have lots of windows and was about the same amount of stories high. Ok, so this guy wasn’t trying to help me out at all. I was so upset at his absurd description I almost stomped my foot, put out my cigarette and hung up. Instead I did what I always do when I don’t know what to say… I continued to babble.
“Oh. Um well Sir, I mean Mr. Chew… or Robert-““Robert”“Right. Well it seems like I still can’t distinguish your building from the rest. Is it near anything?”
“Yes, there is a large parking lot right next to it.” He says as I stand in an ocean wide parking lot equipped with many rivers and streams that led to more parking lots. Ready to collapse I start walking in and out of the blacktop sea. Maybe if I try hard enough I can hear him talking and then miraculously locate the building. I move the phone away from my ear and try to listen for his voice in the open air. Nothing. As I walk I can hear Robert say through the phone it should be by a hill. Not up the hill, or below the hill or to the right of the hill or the left… not even which hill. As I roam the hilly corporate meadow the slit in my skirt starts ripping as it slowly rides up my waist. This was bound to happen since I never fixed the original tear in the lining and because I secretly liked the slit to be a little higher. Before, my skanky attitude would get me so far in life: more drinks, a cute guy, complements, another party, free cover charges to the hottest clubs…now it has made me sink to a new sadly low level.
“Are you the girl in the black skirt smoking the cigarette?” He says finally after I completed a full circle around the parking lot and buried my face into my front door window.
“Um. Yeah… that’s me. And where are you?” I say as I immediately let the cigarette drop from my mouth onto the pavement.“I’m the guy in the window on the second floor… no turn back around… no again…no…” he said in a frustrated tone as I kept spinning my head looking for the floating man.
“Oh. Yes I see you.” I say as I wave frantically with both arms and then promptly put them down and pretend I was fixing my hair when I remember that he saw me first and is still looking. Now running fifteen min late for my appointment I jump into the elevator and guess that Robert was on the second floor. The elevator doors open and rows of doors greet me. I attempt to tuck in my shirt that had slipped out of my skirt and refused to go back. It’s like it knew it didn’t belong there. I walked down the hall peering into every doorway hoping there would be a name or some kind of clue other than numbers that didn’t add up. I slowly and regretfully pressed the redial button.“Hello. Hi, this is Nisma and I was wondering what room number your office was.” I said to the familiar secretary.
“Honey are you standing right outside the door?” she said loud enough that I could hear her behind the door to my left. Of course now it works. I snap my phone closed and walk in with one hand tucking in my shirt and the other pulling down my skirt. It was laundry day and I had to go commando and I prayed that on top of all this my ass wouldn’t be making a guest appearance. I stretched out my hand and shook the secretary’s hand. I don’t know why, I just felt like that’s what young professionals do. She took it uneasily and handed me some paperwork to fill out, just basic info about where I live. I laughed uncomfortably and sat down. I heard another rip. I shifted my legs and worked on completing the assignment. Despite my excellent academic performance in school (due to my charm, naturally) I did lack the required intelligence level to spell correctly. It’s quite sad that a 21-year-old honor student can proofread at the 5th grade level but lets just call that “cute” and move on. I handed the secretary my misspelled paperwork and hoped that it was just one of those things that the employer never looks at.Before I could take one more stab at re-tucking in my shirt one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen comes walking over to me. I attempted to blink, close my mouth and gracefully wiped the drool off my face. I instantly threw out my hand and introduced myself. He told me to come in his office and I said that would be a great idea and laughed. He didn’t get it.
“So Nisma, I’m glad you finally found us. I know how tricky our parking lot is and I always thought we should get a bigger sign,” he said warmly. “I was wondering if you could give me a copy of your resume, I have it on my computer but I don’t remember it exactly,” he said smiling.
“Oh. My resume…” I say as a pretend to search my purse knowing that I had not brought a copy because I clearly do not belong in this world.
“Just for future reference you should bring a copy of your resume to all your interviews…” he says as he looks for a pad of paper.
“Oh I’m well aware--” I say as I start explaining that I had probably left the copy in my car.
“ Also...” he interrupts and I look up from my purse and he says, “you should probably take off your sunglasses.”
Ready to throw myself off a cliff I remove my huge old aviator sunglasses and place them in my purse. Despite my embarrassment he was just so hot that I considered looking back up. This consideration was quickly embraced when I had decided that this was not the job for me. After this liberating decision I could freely do whatever it is I do to flirt with this beautiful man so at least something positive could come out of this interview. I looked up and willed my eyes to sparkle (which never works) while one hand was searching for my lip-gloss and the other was floating through my hair.There was a parade of get to know you questions which I welcomed so I wouldn’t have to answer them on our first date. I giggled appropriately (and sometimes inappropriately), tossed my hair and scrunched my nose. I know that may sound very silly but a scrunchy nose can be quite effective when coupled with a hair flip and giggle. It adds that little extra.
“What would you say are some of your flaws?” he asked.
“Flaws… do people still really ask that question on interviews?!” I say laughing.
“Yes. They do.” He said seriously.
“Um well, I repeat myself a lot, talk too much, but some people like that about me…not the repeating but the talking too much. I sometimes get really involved with something and then completely forget what I was doing. Sometimes I’m really silly but that’s just to keep things light since life is so heavy. I say wicked but not because I’m really into Boston but just cuz its funny. Yeah that sounds weird but …” I cut my self off realizing I revealed the largest flaw of all… that I’m a crazy person. I blame the free flowing energy I allowed myself to indulge in.“Alright.” He says nervously as I look away because I’m afraid that I keep staring at him too much and I don’t want to seem creepy. Little did I know it was too late. “Most of the time you just want to say one or two things, like “I just graduated from college and I don’t have much experience” he says encouragingly.
With another hair flip and giggle combo I smile and say, “that’s a good one!”Despite my humiliating performance as a perspective candidate for a job I was still diluted enough to think that this man was “into me.” So instead of stopping while I was…well not ahead … well instead of just stopping I continued with the nose scrunching and lip gloss applying. As the interview went on it slowly sank in that after today I probably will never see this fine specimen of a man again. Overwhelmed by depression and desperation I stretched and grabbed for questions that could prolong our interaction. Sadly nothing of significance or relatively related came to mind and I had to throw in the towel. I got up to dry of my seat and adjust my slit when he handed me his card. I took it with a smile and decided it was a nice parting gift on this cute little game show called life. As I reached into my purse to pull out my wallet three tampons fly out as if it was the grand finally. Thank you for playing, now here is a word from our sponsors! I collected my party favors and left promptly. I kept thinking how unfair it had been that it had to be tampons of all things. I mean if something like that was going to happen it should at least be condoms! At least then it mean “I was ready for anything,” not “hey, I’m bleeding.”
I walked slowly to my car and realized that this is not for me. The only time I dress up is when there is a themed party at the local frat house. I start my car and hear Kelly singing her heart out. I put on my aviators, light a cigarette and start singing along as I drive drown the long road back onto the highway.