It was a Monday morning. I wasn't feeling great, so I decided it was an ideal opportunity to use a sick day. A to-do list for the day: watch "Do the Right Thing" (a Spike Lee joint), determine the ideal ratio of honey to cinnamon when eaten straight from a cup, file fingernails into squovals, and finish an application for a job posting I saw the day before at a company to which I've sent no less than seven applications over the past several years. Check, check (the answer is half and half), check, and check.
Fast forward to Saturday - I'm trudging through the mall on an epic search for a dress to wear the following weekend to a friend's wedding in the hottest place on earth, and I get an e-mail asking me to come in for an interview. I wasn't sure this day would ever come, and I am over the moon. I abandon my search and spend the rest of the weekend obsessing over strategy. Should I take the first available interview or the last? My instinct was last. I decided to take first. On Wednesday.
Now, how to handle my current job? I had already used a sick day last week. My options: (i) lie, and tell them I have a doctor's appointment, (ii) tell them I have an interview and that I need the morning off (awkward...), or (iii) put in my notice, and then tell them I have an interview and will be taking the morning off. I choose door number 3 and give my notice Monday afternoon. Am I that confident that I will get the job? No. I just decided my job didn't fit into my plan anymore, and I had nothing to lose (except money).
I am obsessive in my preparation for the interview. Barely sleep. The morning of my interview, it's hot and sweaty. I'm dressed as if I'm a circa 1992 day-trader. I'm an hour early so as not to be late. I spend the hour trying to slow my heart at a hotel across the street. I walk in an acceptable 5 minutes early. The interview is 45 minutes long. I know I say a few things they like, and I know I am also very awkward for a few choice moments. I am unsure. I craft a 2 sentence thank-you e-mail in 45 minutes.
The next couple days I am made aware that they are checking my references. I am hopeful, but not too much.
On Saturday I fly to the wedding in hottest place on earth with an old dress that is admittedly too snug. I worry I may go deaf on the plane back (faulty Eustachian tubes). I try not to mention my interview too much for fear of embarrassment if I don't get the job, but it manages to come up in nearly every conversation. I imagine the humiliating conversations this could lead to at the wedding of whichever friend gets married next.
The following week at work is awkward. I angst over a hand-written thank-you note I write them to remind them of my existence. By Friday I am thanked for my e-mail and note. In a dramatic turn of events, one of my references forgets to call them back. Drama! I fix it, and all is well.
On Monday afternoon at work we are treated to a sushi lunch by a company kissing ass. There are also, strangely, fortune cookies. My fortune states, "Expect a change for the better in job or status in the future." I share it with a co-worker who grabs my hand and is sure it is a sign.
On the train home that day, I check my phone and see an e-mail from one of the people who interviewed me. "We are pleased to offer you..."
I'm frozen. I'm smiling. I can't believe it's finally happening.
So there it is. I have to pass a background check, so there's still that, but barring some freak finding, I will probably start the first week of August.