Normally I would be raising my hand for the not-leaving-the-house bit, but I was up before the alarm today. Good thing, because I forgot to set it. I’m getting rather good at driving to strange parts of the city to see specialists but parking stresses me out.
Patient parking in the lot was full, so I parked a couple of rows over in what might have been a place where one needs a permit, but it wasn’t marked reserved so I decided to tempt fate and abandon my car there and walk around to the other side of the building where I would not be able to see it and then proceed to obsess over all the possible outcomes of this decision. Towed away would be the worst. Hefty fine, nasty note, slashed tires. I hate my brain when it thinks up dumb things.
Incredible as it may sound to sane people, I was more worried about my car than about the results of my MRI. So the doctor telling me everything was fine and it’s just a small fatty benign tumour about which nothing needs to be done, was almost anticlimactic. I could not wait to get out of there.
And there my car was, just where I left it, unmolested and not the least bit traumatized.
Now I’m back home waiting for the dishwasher door repairman. Yesterday I saw my MD (have I mentioned how much I like her, despite the fact that she keeps finding stuff wrong with me?) and she was almost as thrilled as I am by the fact that I have dropped my weight by 20 pounds. Imagine what I could do if I actually put real effort in to this! But I know me, so I will just continue to monitor my blood sugar readings and not eat stupid things. If I make up more rules than that I know for sure I will break them.
Hope your week is going well and your car doesn’t get towed and you weren’t too offended by the F word up there. I don’t know why it makes me laugh. Maybe there’s a medical reason.
After we moved out of the Northwest Territories I was able to collect unemployment insurance for a year. My benefits were based on the rate of pay I had been receiving in the north (high due to the cost of living there) and all things considered it was more profitable for me to sit at home and collect them than to take a job for less pay. It was required that a person show evidence of actively seeking employment while getting this compensation, so I applied for a lot of jobs that I either didn’t have a hope in hell of actually getting, or that I knew wouldn’t come close to offering the pay that I wanted.
The strangest thing I applied for was a position as hall monitor at a local high school. I didn’t even know there was such a thing and couldn’t imagine what that person would be expected to do. It was high school for goodness sake. Surely high school kids didn’t need hall supervision? I imagined janitorial work of some kind might be involved. I went to the interview completely unprepared and clueless with no real expectations except for being able to add a description of the process to my weekly quota of job searches.
I was ushered into a small room and placed in a chair facing a semi-circle of five people wielding clip boards and pens. A panel of interviewers! They took turns introducing themselves by name only, and asking me questions. All of them solemnly and busily made notes and check marks and underscores and God only knows what else as I answered them. A lot of the questions were incredibly vague. I understand open-ended, but one fellow in particular kept describing various scenarios and asking me what I would do when faced with such a situation. I told him I’d have to know the rules and what I was expected to do, and then no doubt that’s exactly what I’d do. He looked disappointed that I wasn’t dreaming up my own personal hall dictator rules.
It was such a bizarre little group, so much hoopla, pomp and circumstance, and all for the purpose of finding somebody good at catching kids smoking or dealing drugs on the premises. My mind started to seriously wander, wondering why they didn’t just get an undercover cop to check things out if they suspected those kinds of problems. But part of the job would also entail helping out in the office as required, photocopying and collating and doing whatever other mundane things needed doing but were beneath the importance of the people already employed there. So why did the hiring of this person require the agreement of an entire board of people?
At some point I was aware of myself talking to all of them, and then there was silence. My voice stopped. So did my brain. We all stared at each other for a moment. Then since nobody else seemed to want to say anything I told them I was sorry, I seemed to have completely lost my train of thought. More uncomfortable gawking at each other. What was the question again? The process rather quickly petered out after that, although I still had a lot of unanswered questions of my own.
No, I did not get the position. One of them called me less than two hours later to let me know the job had been offered to someone else. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t a conference call. I hope I didn’t sound too incredibly relieved, but it wasn’t possible to drum up even the slightest amount of disappointment.
Never been interviewed by a panel of people like that, before or since. Never walked away from an interview since that one more confused than when I arrived.