Monday, December 11, 2006

An Interview Day in the Life...

9:24 am: Wake up to the smell of kitten breath and feelings of drowning. See that 14-pound Furball #2 is sitting on my chest with her nose one inch away from my face.

9:27 am: Roll out of bed to the sound of two chirping Furballs; fill food dish.

9:29 am: Stumble to the kitchen and pour my morning Coke Zero. Debate between eating a piece of spice cake or granola and yogurt for breakfast. Decide that I should eat the granola and yogurt for healthy fiber. End up eating cake anyway.

10:15 am: Have a brief panic attack in front of the TV when I remember that my interview is this afternoon.

10:22 am: Come out of panic attack and decide to wrap dad's Christmas presents (because it *really* needs to be done today...).

10:25 am: Make funny paper hats for Furballs and try to get them to wear them. They do not comply.

10:30 am: Decide that exactly half past 10 is the perfect time to amble toward the computer. Read the MLA newsletter along the way. Rearrange the Nativity scene and rescue the Jesus figurine that Furball #1 has batted underneath the couch. Silently hope that J.C. doesn't take it personally.

10:50 am: Decide to play Taipei until 11 and then start reviewing my interview notes. Play for another 15 minutes after that because I couldn't stop until I won a game.

11:05 am - 1 pm: Review notes, print out syllabi to have handy during interview, check on a couple of sources, do a bit more research on the school, blog a bit, check e-mail approximately 72 times.

1 pm: Get phone call from Dad wishing me luck. His one piece of sage advice? "Honey, make sure you don't say 'like' every other word." Thanks, Pop.

2 pm - 3pm: Walk around the house answering interview questions to the air, the walls, the Furballs (who ignore me). Upstairs neighbor knocks on the door to tell me that he'd picked up a package left outside for us - says, "I'm really sorry to interrupt you guys" - I feel slightly embarrased when he realizes there's no one else in the apartment and I was talking to myself - or my "imaginary friend"...

3:05 pm: Put package in corner so it will not distract me. Decide to investigate package anyway. Realize that it is a box of wrapped Christmas presents from friends in Maryland. Shake packages gently to see if I can surmise contents. Shaking is unsuccesful.

3:06 pm: Furball #1 begins to eat the bows off the presents.

4:30 pm: Phone interview - lasts approximately 20 minutes. When I can tell they're wrapping up I feel slightly odd thinking that I haven't made a good impression. Find out that this was just a brief screening interview and that they'll be making conference interview decisions by the end of the week. I feel much better.

5:15 pm: Field phone calls from various friends, parents, husband asking how it went. Unanimous response: "you have to wait some more before you hear?"

5:30 pm: Go to the Wendy's drive-thru and come home to watch Holmes on Homes.

8:00 pm: Retire to the bathtub with a beer and await the Dutchman's homecoming where we will analyze every single word of the phone interview for all possible nuances. All is right with the world...

At the end of the day, I feel very good about the interview - I was a bit nervous at first and I'm not sure how my first answers went, but I soon rallied and I think I did quite well - but it's so hard to tell (especially over the phone) and I'll find out soon enough! They were very nice and after speaking with them, the job sounds even better - keep your fingers crossed a bit longer that I make the next cut!!



At 11:16 PM, Blogger Hilaire said...

I'm glad you feel good about the interview!!

I had to laugh when I read what your dad said. Dads. I talked to my dad the day before my campus interview last week and he said something like, "Well, good luck...I think it's a long shot, frankly, but good luck." Niiiiice. (I did not let that one go, btw; we got into it and he revealed that it was a result of an erroneous conception about some national politics and how they affect campus politics...still, sheeeesh!)


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