Interview #1

Today was my first big-girl job interview.

I'd had to interview before, but since the positions weren't in New York City, the interviews weren't nearly as intimidating as this one.

I got dressed, made sure I didn't have anything in my teeth, and headed to the R train. When I started walking I felt something poking my foot in my shoe. Not a big deal, I thought, it's probably just a small pebble or something.

I sat down on the disgusting subway bench in my freshly ironed interview clothes, and took off my shoe.

OH man. Blood. Everywhere. All over my foot, all over my shoe. Hm. How did this happen?

Let's flash back to the day earlier when I had forcefully opened my refrigerator (I was hungry, don't judge) and my butter dish had fallen out and shattered everywhere. Apparently, a small shard of the glass ended up in my interview shoe. And then in my foot.

So I'm sitting, shoeless, on this bench, digging around in my bloody foot to try to get this shard of glass out, and the cut just keeps getting bigger and deeper. Finally I'm able to pin this thing between my nails and get it out. But by that time, this tiny little cut had become a real gusher. Do I have any napkins? Nope. Tissues? Nope. So I had to put my shoe on. I could feel the blood pooling in the bottom of it. I'm fully convinced that these things don't happen to normal people.

I make it to my interview, bloody foot and all. I felt like Curt Schilling, minus the sock.

So...

The job pays $28,000 a year.

Assuming I get it (which I'm only hypothetically doing, since they were interviewing tons of candidates) I would have to give up the following things to exist on that kind of salary:

1) Manhattan. I'd have to move to Brooklyn or Queens. Could I do it? Maybe, I've never actually been to Queens, but I don't own anything plaid so I'd stick out in Brooklyn.

2) Food. On a meager salary like the one listed above, I would not only have to give up dining out (not a huge problem, I cook most of the time anyways), but I would have to give up eating in general. Fresh fruits and veggies? Psh- not anymore.

3) My smart phone. This one really kills me. It might kill me more than moving out of Manhattan. Because what will I do with myself if I'm wondering something and can't instantly google the answer? Or if I get lost and I can get directions sent to my phone? How would I function? Anyone want to start a family plan with me?

4) Drinking. Well, not really. I'd just have to wear more low-cut shirts when I go out, and then I wouldn't have to pay for it. But I really prefer cardigans and tee shirts to sparkly, low-cut tops.

Is it worth it?

I think so.

The place seems great- it's a trade magazine run by nice women who are looking for people to join their editorial team, transcribe interviews, do the bitch work, etc. And would I mind doing it? Not at all- in fact, I'd be glad to. Because I'd suck it up and transcribe for hours to be in an environment where I'm happy. And because sometimes, you just have to suck it up and transcribe anyways.

I'll find out if I've landed a second interview by Friday. Let's hope so, because this is the most promising, if most fiscally challenging, lead so far.