The New Job

Yes, you've been offered a new job. Yay! And you've accepted the new job. Uhg!

But, come on, it will be more of the same. It may be tier II tech support, but it's still tech support, and it may be a promotion, but that is so not glamorous.

It's more money. Not a lot more money, but enough more to make Sweetie go, "Ooooh, that's like $5,000 more a year. Ooooh, that's nice." See, that's why Sweetie is so awesome, because her math is always on the bright side.

It's a Minneapolis-based company. You've talked to people who have worked there in the past, and you hear it's like uber-corporate. Like never utter the word "penis" corporate. Like don't stare too long at the hot girl in the next cubicle too long corporate. Like don't drive an ugly car corporate. Like don't discuss your private life, because it might be too sexy, or illegal in some way, or involve uncomfortable subject matter like cancer or Jesus or dance music or XXX movies or what day the garbage man comes or dandruff shampoo or diarrhea or that gay cousin you bumped into downtown.

But it has to be better that Castcom where no one talks at all.

You meant to blog about the job interview, but like everything else, it fell to the wayside. Here's an abridged version:

The interview was a surprise, so you had to get a crappy haircut at Cost Cutters because Hairpolice was booked with only a one-day notice. You bought a pinstriped Billy London suit, a blue shirt, and a hot DKNY tie at Herberger's and you returned the suit after the interview (but you kept the tie because Sweetie really liked it). This was all accomplished within an hour after working overtime at Castcom from 6 - 10 AM.

The interview was at 12:30 PM. Who schedules an interview during lunch hour?

You drove north for awhile, and you took a wrong turn, but thanks to breaking the speed limit and running red lights, you ended up at the interview with 5 minutes to spare. Whew!

The place was sort of depressing. You had to talk through a speaker on the front door to a security guard in order to get access. The guard made you sign a clipboard and then gave you one of those "VISITOR" passes to clip on your suit jacket that screams "THIS DORK IS HERE FOR A JOB INTERVIEW" but you looked damn good in that suit, so you didn't panic.

The place had fake plants. Always a bad sign. If a place doesn't pay someone to take care of the plants, then the place is skimpy and could care less about the small details. The cubicle walls were originally off-white, but they were all old and stained. Yuck! Depressing. They looked like dirty diapers.

The guy who interviewed you was a serious dick. But, hey, like you told Sweetie, maybe it's time to have a boss who's a dick, and who tells it like it is. You Castcom manager seemed very, very, very nice in the interview, and she turned out to be a corporate witch who never left her office unless it meant coming to a meeting to shout down any dissenters of her new ridiculous policies. So, maybe it's time to have a boss who's going to be a dick from day one. No surprises.