Today I went on an interview for a job that would occupy me three of the five working days of the week. I nailed it, despite having absolutely no experience working in PR. I guess I have done similar things, but never working in a place solely devoted to it. I basically walked in there, said I grew up around actors and clowns and that I love the entertainment industry and am looking to find my niche in it. That was pretty much it. I think getting the job had more to do with the total ineptitude of the woman preceding me to the post than anything else. I may be selling myself short here, but good God. The last hire sounded like a disaster. The most ridiculous of her mess-ups was being given three letters to mail (with a post-it on each one of them indicating the name and address) and somehow managed to send two of them to the wrong addresses. I believe I heard stories of her not understanding the basics of the fax machine.
I mean, I make stupid mistakes in offices sometimes, I admit it. It’s usually because I’m bored or daydreaming or trying to invent a faster way to do the menial task to which I have been assigned. However. It’s usually something like printing 20 copies instead of 2. On the wrong paper. Or causing several boxes of paperclips to spill all over the floor in an attempt to put them in a more time-efficient position on my desk. You know. Things that A) can be immediately fixed B) happen when no one is watching or C) A continuation of B, except it also includes no one ever finding out about it, unless I tell it as a funny story of Jasmine Being Jasmine, Oh That Silly Girl.
Speaking of Jasmine being a silly girl. I thought that my interview was at 10am, but it was actually at 10:30. So I got there 40 minutes early and B kindly told me to take a walk around the block a few times. The good news is that I found two places of business that I would like to patronize at some point. Both center around alcohol and food. But also culture! Which is how I will justify such absurdities. Anyway. The first one is a tiny little establishment called The Wine Room. Its tagline was “A Convivial Place to Drink Wine.” Isn’t that pleasant? Convivial. What an underused, wonderful word. The second place caught my eye firstly because it said NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) and secondly because boldly next to the name of the place was the word “BOOZE.” This endeared itself to me only because it very much captured the spirit of Bourbon Street. Upon further investigation, the decorations inside (I looked through the window, as such a place isn’t open at 10am) were just great. Lots of colorful art splashed all over the walls. The furniture looked comfortable, a fun place to hang out. It was really big, too, there were a couple courtyards swathed in Christmas lights and dotted with potted trees. I liked the look of it because I liked what it made me remember.
So anyway. Got the job. Starts at $15/hour, which I’m pleased about. Down side? Makes it so I now have a legitimate 40 hour work week. I mean, I guess I’m going to have to come to terms with such a thing (bleck) someday. . . but I’ve been so wretchedly spoiled all summer. . . the next few months might just kick my pale ass. I will leave the house at 7:45am (annoying, but respectable) on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and at 6:45am (annoying and DISrespectable) on Tuesdays and Thursdays to catch the train into San Francisco. Like I will be doing in just 7 short hours. I will return home between 6:30pm and 7pm daily. Which seems like an awful amount of time devoted to work.
Haha, listen to me complain about having a full-time job during the worst economic crisis of my generation. What a horrible girl I am.
More on my internship later, once it’s actually happened. . .