Almost

Merry Christmas, everyone. Or Happy Holidays. Whichever you prefer. Just don’t get pissed at the people who say the opposite of what you want to hear. That’s just sad.

The time leading up to Christmas is an exciting time. You’re doing your last minute shopping and wrapping, family members are coming to town, and you are preparing your liver for some severe drinking. Last week I was going through all of these, but I also had another event on my schedule: a phone interview. Sound exciting? Not really.

Let me rewind. Since I haven’t been able to find a job in my field (I don’t even know what that field is), I’ve been playing around with my resume. What I would write on my resume depended on each job’s requirements. This particular job is in the medical field. I majored in Sociology. I can barely spell ‘medical’.

Since this opportunity was in the medical field, my resume was going to need some severe changing. Nothing on it says anything about medicine, and there’s a good reason why: I’ve never worked in the field. Lucky for me, I have several family members who are nurses. They helped make my resume sound realistic. And that ultimately landed me this phone interview.

The interview was Monday at 11:00 AM. I was prepared. It was 10:45 and I had my phone next to me, my resume in front of me, and any and all background noises were blocked out. The phone rang at exactly 11:00; I answered.

The beginning stages of the conversation went smooth; mainly because she did all the talking, and there were no questions. It got ugly when she did start asking. Questions like, “What interested you in this position?” and “How did you become interested in the medical field?” were followed with responses like “Uh…” and “Um…”

The deciding part comes in the form of another response. At a certain point in the interview, I was asked to “describe one instance, while working, where you had trouble and what you did to solve the problem.” Well…fuck. I’ve never stepped foot in a hospital. How was I going to bullshit my way through this one? Long story short, I couldn’t. I fumbled. I couldn’t even think of anything to say. After a long period of silence, she just said, “Why don’t you take some time to think about it, and then e-mail me when you think of it.” Shit.

I did. Of course it wasn’t my story. I waited for my mom to get home and had her write it up, then I put my name on it and sent it. Plagiarism. Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I know that lady isn’t calling me back. My streak of unemployment continues…