Monday, May 5, 2008


You know how it is with initial interviews. Your cover letter and CV were awesome. [It has to be you moron.] Now comes the time for a big break. You dress up and talk to impress would-be employers – of both, needless to say, I awesomely suck!

My recent stint was with a FM Station. The FM woman said that the letter and CV are phenomenal and she'd read my blogs too. She's quite impressed she said and her looks told me she's surprised to see me existed in person. She thought I am a virtual character, one of those bastards that exist only on the internet, and I should remain as such. That bitch. She probably thought I was too awesome she was shocked I got a body that needs to dress up and talk to impress people further.

Okay, that was a lousy introduction but what the hell, and fuck you too.

The interview went smoothly. I'm a smooth talker they said. Too smooth I talked only in few syllables, in a sentence if it's really necessary like “Yes, ma'am, I started writing when I was in my stroller.” Or “ No, ma'am, I suck at verbal stuffs.” It was a smooth talk and short too - the interviewer got little from me. She did all the talking I just sat down and said Yes or No, or expressed some affirmation and negation at times like when she said that she saw masterpieces in my portfolio. Mostly, I kept my silence and blushed all the while.

Ok now, let's go over there so that you can meet other applicants and also take your test, she said.

It was too cold I couldn't get hold of my pencil from shivering. The others were through with their tests except a gay at the other end of the table when I just started mine. I almost shouted fuck you to the gay when he/she/it kept glancing at me and on my clean paper.

Instruction said I write about an experience, an interview, a book review or a personal essay of my choice. I chose my choice.

I started to write with a caveat: “Mine is too personal. Please read with caution.”

Title: Of Initial Interviews

I remember one rare awesome interview I had. The first question they asked me was about my strengths and weaknesses. Awesome that I am, I replied with confidence that my strengths can be exceeded alone by my own strengths. To wit: I still have this enormous power in my arms like I can carry you around with my left arm alone, that I can sneeze without blinking my eyes and that more you shall see if only you accept me for the job.

For my weaknesses, um, well, actually I have only one weakness that I was unlucky to have. It's an inborn, you see. No, not like those things you read in Marvel or DC Comics – they are crap. Mine is real and too depressing to admit. I am even ashamed to speak of it now. But if you promise you keep this talk between us, I might tell you. When she said “promise and cross my heart.” Well, then, I continued. If I'm really provoked, this my singular weakness, I can't help to shout: “Eat my penis, you fag!” Or “You are all gay and fuck you!” Or simply put: “Penis! Penis! Penis!” till some nice security guards would get hold of me and show me the way out as nicely as they can.

This happens Ma'am, be rest assured please, only when I got really pissed off, provoked, and all that.

* * * * *

There you have it.

Felt contented and quite pleased with myself, I passed my paper to the FM woman. She smirked and with that look again saying “are you for real?” She said she'll probably call me Monday morning if I got the job.

Well, it's now almost Tuesday. Of course there's no call from the FM woman you stupid moron. What do you expect from me I sucked, and most probably will be a sucktard in all my initial interviews.

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