And Now, For My Next Trick!

My interview on Thursday went quite well.  I arrived (as usual) fifteen minutes early, managed to parallel park right in front and the meter even had money on it! So, quarter in hand I feed the person's meter in front of mine since it was about to run out.  I then gather up my cute tote purse, fluff my hair, straighten my glasses and stride smartly into the courthouse doors, promptly setting off the metal detector. 

I smile sheepishly at the guards who joke and laugh at me as they toss my purse on the conveyor belt and I re-enter the metal detector. 

And set it off again.

They laugh and blame my zippered boots - which I have to show off to them - and let me go on. 

Arriving at the Prosecutor's Office I'm told that the interviews are running a bit behind so I open up my "Bloodsucking Fiends" book by Christopher Moore and wait.  A few minutes later a petite blonde with a great smile leads me through the "authorized persons only" door and back through a cluttered office, a tiny hallway that made other hallways look fat and roomy and opens the door where THREE OTHER PEOPLE WAIT FOR ME.

I'm a bit stunned.  I had no clue that I would be interviewing with all involved parties, but I took a seat with the Prosocuting Attorney in front of me, a guy next to me and the smiling blonde and another guy behind me.  Sitting sideways in my chair, the interview begins with that same horrible question: "Sooooo tell us a little about yourself."

This question immediately makes me clam up like a Kindergatner with an uncool lunchbox.  So I hem and haw and immediately launch into "All About Holly" at Mach Eight.  Summer would have been proud.

I have just rounded out my college education, and then blurted out "And I'm a sort of writer.  I have a monthly column in the VoiceboxX-"

The man whose desk I'm sitting at slaps his hand on my resume "I thought  your name sounded familiar! You covered the Marshall movie! I read it while I was waiting to get my hair done! You're funny! You're really funny!" 

I grinned and glanced at the people behind me "I'm famous!" I whispered to them as they laughed along.

Needless to say, the interview went well. I had a great time but am very afraid that my inexperience may be the death of my professional career.  

Wish me luck and lets hope that they're more interested in personal skills and peppy attitudes rather than stupid ol' "experience"!