Job interview #2

I had my second job interview yesterday afternoon. It was in Boston, scheduled for 2 pm and since Mapquest said it would take 29 minutes to get there from where I work now, I, being the meticulous planner that I am and allowing for a lot of time to get lost, left work at 12:30 to get there in plenty of time.

Yeah fucking right.

I do not drive well in city settings. I'm a country girl--I fully admit that. I really, really, really get stressed driving in the city. But I decided to do so versus taking the T (which is what I usually do, or have someone else drive to wherever we're going), because I didn't want to risk being late because the T isn't running on time for one reason or another.

So, I have a combination of Mapquest directions and the directions the company rep provided me. Realizing I'm almost there, I look for the boulevard in Cambridge I'm supposed to locate; the company is right off that boulevard.

But there's no road sign for the boulevard.

I am forced to then enter Storrow Drive because I'm on a one-way street and can't turn around. For those who do not live in the Boston area, Storrow is a fucking nightmare at almost any time of the day.

And I rarely drive in Boston and don't know the city THAT well (despite living a mere half-hour away), so I'm in full-fledged panic-mode at this point.

I knew I had been on Route 28 South before, and therefore, to go back, needed to find Route 28 North. The first exit I see off of this particular point on Storrow is for Route 28 South. I take it--figuring Route 28 North can't be that far behind.

Mistake. It's all one-way roads. You know why? Because I'm on Newbury Street. That's all I know, mind you. I have no clue how to get off of Newbury Street.

This is when the tears came.

I don't cry much, but I DO cry easily when I'm frustrated. So, I'm in the car, realizing that despite leaving plenty of time for a normal person to get from Hanscom AFB to Cambridge, I have ten minutes to get to my interview for a job I actually give a shit about.

I promptly begin swearing AND crying even harder. I bang on the steering wheel with furious, closed fists. People are next to me in their cars at red lights, staring at me. It is obvious they are wondering who the crazy woman is next to them and whether they should call the police.

So, I took a nice tour through the Back Bay, the theatre district and Chinatown (how the fuck I ended up there is still a mystery).

I finally end up on 93 and realizing that my interview must be near the Cambridgeside Galleria, I park in the garage there, thinking I can walk to wherever I need to go. Keep in mind I still cannot find the place, and I'm already 10 minutes late. I ask a hotel clerk where the place is and, seeing how disheveled I am, takes pity on me and calls me "sweetie" many times while telling me where I am to go.

Thank Jesus someone knew where this God-forsaken place was.

I walk there, in the pouring rain (in my panic, do you think I would have thought to bring a fucking umbrella? Ha! No way!) so I arrive--finally--at my interview, 20 minutes late. My pants are soaking wet at the ends, partially because they were ever-so-slightly-too-long and partially from walking in some very deep puddles. My hair is drenched and I have tear stains on my face from crying.

The woman who is to interview me comes over to meet me in the reception and is thankfully very sweet. She says all interviewees are late in arriving here because they can never find the place. I emphasize whenI left work, the hell I went through to get here, and apologize profusely for being late and looking terrible because I damn well know what kind of impression that leaves on an interview. She says it's honestly no big deal at all and she really didn't even realize I was late.

The interview went as well as can be expected I suppose, considering how stressed I was. I loved the job description (a lot of event planning, which I adore) and the company sounded fantastic.

Do I think I'll get it, though? Probably not. Why?

Because nicer companies typically don't take well to soggy, teary-eyed, out-of-breath, late interviewees, despite how sweet and sympathetic their human resources people appear to be.

I think finding a decent job will be harder than I thought.

I am so screwed.