It all started at one of my many interviews for school typist. The principal saw that I'd graduated with a Bachelor's Degree (in Film, but still...) and figured that that qualified me for the position of substitute teacher.
Flabbergasted, but finding myself unable to say no, I applied for the position. A job's a job, right?
Cut to a few days ago. I get an e-mail telling me of an interview for the position of substitute teacher. It's for Saturday morning...the same Saturday as one of my inventory assignments. Could I do both? Would I even be allowed?
I make a judgment call. I decide to blow off the assignment and focus my energy on the interview. Maybe, I could get the job. (Before I continue on, I should point out that I get my inventory work schedule a week in advance.) I get my work schedule for the following week. Not a single job to be found (and given my many financial obligations, I need as many working days as I can get).
My focus is back on the inventory day. The chance is good that I might miss the interview, but I pack an outfit for it, anyway. I end up finishing the store earlier than I expected; more than enough time to change clothes, get to the interview and grab a delicious breakfast.
The interview is being held at, of all places, my old high school, something I was sure to point out to my interviewers. I get into what was once the basement with the old gymnasium and shop class, but is now the school cafeteria and find several other people being interviewed.
I'm of two minds about this job: on one hand, I'd have some measure of respect and some veneer of adulthood, but on the other, standing in front of a class of teenagers. Teenagers brought up in this current generation. I shudder to think about it.
In the end, it's pretty moot. They didn't pick me. I suppose I'm better off. I suppose.
Labels: personal
