OT: My Job Interview

I've only labeled this OT because there might be those who
may take exception to me posting under my real name while
in myh delicate condition.

I.e,, stewed to the gills.

I think I left a bypo of ros sbo eve.

Anyways, to the point.

OK, it's Rich Grise (say, "Gryce" or "Greiss", whichever has the
long 'I' sound), as the techie, but drunk on alcohol and high on
(shhhh!) simultandousley -wait a minute. Simultaneously. Actually,
more like synergistically.

Well, anyway, If I could shut up! I'd start with the story
of my job interview.

Yeah, why not - it's been busting me at the seams since it
happened - I mean, I want to share my experience.

Many of you may have noticed that one of our compatriots here
signs himself/herself "Watson A. Name." This is a quite clever
nym, in my book. But I don't have all that big of a book. But
that's neither here nor there. The point is, Watson had mentioned
aspects of his job, that seem to be congruent with things that
I can do, and lately I've been having a little in-between time,
so I posted something like "Hey, Watson! Need another techie
up there?" Short story shorter, Watson postes a URL of a
job opening at UCSB - University of California, Seventeenth
and Bristol. :-D :-D ;-D - this has been a very long-standing
southern California joke - Santa Ana Community College, or
Santa Ana Junior College, or, apparently these days, Santa Ana
College, lives at Seventeenth and Bristol, in Santa Ana.

Boy, I could milk this story. Oh, well, why not? I'm fupped
duck, I have enough of my favorite intoxicants to get me through
the night, so, OK, kiddies, kick back, relax, and hear about
Uncle Rich's Job Interview. (Or click "NEXT"). ;-0

OK, so I had answered this ad that Watson Name pointed out to
me; it might still be in the archives - and I filled out a form,
and according to my estimation of myself in the blanks I filled
out on that form, I was buttered toast walking on water. ;-D
(Hey! I just now this very sentence made up that last mixed
metaphor! Are you sure it's safe to post under my real name
when I'm this stoned?" "Yeah, fegeddabaadit!") ) OK, are we
back in real-time here?

I'd been to the corner of Seventeenth and Bristol before. In
the late 1980's. At the time when across 17th street from
Santa Ana Community College (the time when the UCSB gag would
get a laugh for miles around, in convenience stores and stuff),
At that time, all there was in the northwest quadrant of the
17th==X Bristol==Y block was a huge concrete parking lot with
a standalone movie theater at the end of a dying strip mall,
which movie theater showed the XXXest rated flicks that it
was legal to show in those days, and after dark was a very
popular free blowjob joint.

Anyways,, I showed up for my interview, and one of the
things I noticed, although on retrospect it's probably not
all that important, was that the college chicks seem to
have biggger butts than they used to. But, it's summer
seeeion, so things are probably different.

Anyways, I get to the door of the room where the interview
is suposed to be and there's a handwritten note scotch-taped
to the glass of the door: "Interview in session. Please have
a seat, and you will be called." Well, it's about a 12' by
12' room, one wall is all windows, except the door - the
point is, the one whole 12 foot wall is all glass windows
to the hallway. Well, with the door. And there's some guy
sitting in there with his back to the door - there's a
conference table in this room, diagonally, where the long
axis points at the corner with the door. I didn't realize
the significance of this until it was my turn to go in for
my interview - but I do rememeber thinking, "You NEVER
expect the Spanish Inqisition!" there were six or seven
other people interviewing this suspect. So, I wrote
a note on my note paper, that I had, present-of-mindedly,
brought with me: "Rich Grise - 8:30 interview - stepped
out for a smoke" and put it on the chair with my newspaper
and maybe my pen - anyways, I finish my smoke, come back
inside, and the interview crew seems confused. Evidently,
the guy before me _finally_ got done with his interview,
and they had released him, and for some reason or another,
didn't know how to deal with the empty spot I'd left by
going out for a smoke. Well, OK, I sez to myself, let's
go in and dazzle them.

I says to one of the confused-looking inquisitors, "Hi!
Are you looking for me? I'm Rich Grise, your 8:30 interview!
:-) He invites me into the room, and the two of us do the
old vaudeville "Oh, after you!" bit for a couple of beats,
and I just march into the room, and the guy, who it turns
out is the chief interviewer, catches the doorknob on his
belt. How could anybody make anything like that up?

That pops the first bubble of tension, everybody has a
little chuckle, and I say, "Well, as a matter of fact,
there's something I have to warn you about - if you
make me laugh, in a big silly - well, you see <beam>
I'm in the middle of some dental procedure, so don't
judge me for the big gap in my mouth, and I want to be
able to be natural with you <blahblahblahblah>...

So I sit down at the end of the table, and there were seven
other peole there. This is the first time I've been
in a job interview where I was beint interviewed by
more than one person! =:-O You NEVER expect the Spanish
Inquisition!

So, the guy who was the head of the interview, the guy
who had opened the door for me, and caught his belt in
the handle (This is excusable - th e room was laid (layed?)
oit abominablally. Anyways, he goes and takes his seat at
the far end of the table, and introduces six other
pepole, of which one was Caucasian, and she looked so
much like my own sister, I, - well, I kept it to myself.
The rest were Asian, except the guy opposite the Caucasian
Redhead - he was Hispanic, albeit very light-skinned, with
the worst hair I've ever seen. I mean, you've all heard
the term, "Bad Hair Day", Right? And you've heard of,
say, "Pillow hair?" that sort of thing? It would be
difficult to describe this fellow's hairdo. Think,,
jet black, in the shape of Bart Simpson's hair, but
with straggles. By shape, I mean Herman Munster-shaped
hair.

So, anyways, I sit down (***! bet this is gonna be long,
I haven't even got to the inetrerview part yet! guh-hyuk!

So, I sit down at the end of the table with my back to
the dooor, facing these seven pepole, and there's a
test scotch-taped to the table. It's kind of like a
questionnaire. There's eleven questions. I says, "Oh,
crap! An essay test. I _hate_ essay tests!" They all
make reassuring noises. "No, we're just going to ask
you how you'd respond to these situations.."

It was like an oral, but they had predefined questions.

And actually, If I was tasked to make up an interview
like that, I'd have probably come up with very similar
questions. A couple of the questions were about
impossible situations. "What would you do if it were
three minutes before the end of your shift and one
of the students just reported that the printer's
broken and they need it to complete today's assignment?"
My off-the-cuff, impromptu, on-the-spot, mane it up
right there on the spur of the moment response to that
question was, "Well, if I'm really on a strict time
clock, I'd clock out and make it somebody else's
problem." With a twinkle, and they all laughed.


That's the thing tha tprompted me to get drunk and
stoned and rant^H^H^H^H go on and on about my job
interibeview - it doesn't really _mattrer_ to me if
I got the jomb - I made people _laugh_ in real-time.

A cvouple of times during that job interview, I made
them all laugh about an issue. I did, of course,
qualify for all of the technical crap. I ain't
_that_ stupid, to go apply for a job that even I
know I'm not qualified for.

Oh, yeah, just remembered. Question number 11
was, something about, do you have any other qustions
or ahything elxe you can offer?

I said, yeah, two things. One, what are the hours,
because I have to coordinate with the guy where I'm
the sysop, and the other thing is, I heard about this
job on USENET, from some guy who signs himself
"Watson A. Name", who apparently already works here.
And the head interviewer guy said, "Yeah, I know what
you're talking about, and I know the fellow you're
referring to." And just looked sort of wise and
inscrutable.

So, WTF? If you have to go to a job interview to
get a live laugh, WTF?

Thanks!
Ricih
(***! Can't even spell my own name! WSo, ya thinwkk we
shoujld proofread this? Nsaaah! We're drunk and stoked,
STONED, they dedserve fari waringnn!.)

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