Yes, I stole that from Forrest Gump but, unfortunately, it wholly applies to me and my latest awkward (to say the least) interaction with humans in a professional setting.

Let’s take it back a couple of weeks. I get a text from a friend of mine who is a principal at a local elementary school. She informs me that someone in her office is leaving, she will have a vacancy and asks if I would possibly be interested. Now, we all know my struggles with going back to work. I think I want to, I step up to the plate, I take a couple of swings, but ultimately I strike out looking (hello baseball metaphors). But when she reached out, I felt like it was a sign from up above – God, Jesus, Ash, Bogey, Grandma or some totally random deady looking out for a gal. This was the same job I turned down at another elementary school in our area, that I have completely questioned why I turned it down almost daily. Also, (I shudder to use this term because it is thrown out so willy nilly these days but for lack of a better one) Colt has been the victim of some bullying behavior in his current school, and, as any child in his situation would, has some low key anxiety on the regular about attending said school. So, in my little mama brain (and I do emphasize the world little here – you’ll see why shortly), I think I’ll get this job, it will get me out of this touch of depression I’ve got going on and Colt can start fresh, with me in tow, at a new school and all will be well with the world.

Now, the last time I was offered this job, albeit at a different school, I went in for an “interview” but I use that term very loosely. I basically just had a little chat with my kids’ former principal, she called some references and she offered me the job. There was no formal panel of humans all staring at me, there was no double sided sheet of paper with intimidating questions and there certainly wasn’t anybody writing down my answers to said intimidating questions.

If you haven’t already guessed, my friend asked me to come in for an interview. I said yes assuming it would be much like the previous interview. So I walked in with my head held high, checked in with the receptionist and waited for my friend. And my friend did come. But she did not come alone. No! No! No! She had a posse. And by posse I mean it was her and 2 other women. But it was enough to make me shit my proverbial britches. Which I realize is stupid. I’m an intelligent woman. I have a lot to offer. But I forgot all of that yesterday.

I’m going to make this short and sweet, I think. My friend introduces me to her posse. She calls one of the women a rockstar to which I reply “remind me to get her autograph before I leave.” Everybody giggles a little and the interview begins. As previously stated, all the interview gang have very official looking folders with very official looking papers with very official looking questions. The posse are all holding their very official looking pens and they take turns asking these very official questions. And I get it. I know that I am supposed to talk about how great I am, what an asset I am, how my biggest weakness is that I’m a workaholic. I know all the things. I went to college. I’ve had jobs. I’m very capable.

Unfortunately, my nerves broke my filter. Absolutely did not work. Now, had I been auditioning for Saturday Night Live, perhaps we could have called this a success. Alas, I was not. I was interviewing for the school data manager position. I know, it sounds like a very sexy job. And honestly, I would probably be quite good at it. But my interview was NOT a reflection of the skills one would need to successfully manage data like a boss.

For example, I was asked to define confidentiality, and I started off fairly strong, having a background as a paralegal, I’m pretty familiar with confidentiality. I should have expanded on that. Instead, I said the first rule about fight club is don’t talk about fight club. I shit you not. Those words came out of my mouth. I was also asked 3 words a colleague would use to describe me. What I should have said was smart, efficient and hardworking. Instead, I came back with FUNNY. Because who isn’t looking for a funny data manager?! I then noticed some music in the background and inquired as to its origins. It was music class that was happening right across the hall or somewhere in the near vicinity. So obviously I said that for my next trick I would do an interpretive dance to the music but I was really going to need them to pep it up a bit. What in the fuck is wrong with me? The answer is simple. A lot.

I apologized to my friend afterward. I’m certain I totally embarrassed her. I’m a giant ass. So if you’re feeling bad about yourself today, just think of the idiot that is me. It will perk you right up.

The first rule about fight club is don’t talk about fight club. Jesus take the wheel…