So how was my interview? It�s evening, and I�ve brought my flask to the coffee shop so I am enjoying a sneaky delicious Maker�s Mark Americano. How was my interview? All right, you can probably guess � here was the theme with everyone I met: "No offense, but why is someone [as hot shit] as you applying for a job like this?" When I told the IT guy how much web stuff I�d done, he thought I was joking. Why am I applying for a job like this? Arrr, I dunno. I think I might be starting to learn a lesson about the lowball, like if you have to lowball to get in the door then maybe it is not a threshold you wanted to have crossed in the first place. One girl who interviewed me, who seems to be the female in the office closest to my age, practically made me repeat after her, "Yes, I do understand that on paper it looks like your position supports mine but that in fact it is the opposite and I would support you" � and, uh, I am really not sure that this is the case, since her job title is the one with "Assistant" in it. She was sulky and frumpy and self-important and grasping, and I certainly would not want to go get morning coffee with her. She made sure I knew that she�d originally hired on to do the job I was there about but she had found it too boring and anyway she was a bit of an intellectual, she had big plans for herself. Everyone�s glaring lack of regard for the position in question � or lack of regard for the person who signs on to do it, as though surely there must be something wrong with him of her � is not a positive advertisement, you know? One of the big bosses was very nice and personable, and he does the crossword puzzle. The receptionist complimented me on my tights and called me Darlin� and Honey. There�s some possibility that the office they�d put me in has a window. The walking commute sure is dope. Pap smear.

I honestly don�t have a sense of whether or not they�ll offer it to me. I think I�m inclining towards not, because I haven�t even been asked to provide references, which seems as clear an indication of intent as not calling the ones you were given (hi, Scully). But since they were so damn dazzled, I will know that if they do offer me the job it will be because they�re using me, and that will be cool and I can just use them right back � if they offer me the job, I�ll take it and I�ll do it and I�ll get a pap smear, and from the having-a-jobness I will redouble my efforts at getting-a-jobness, that is to say on getting better money doing something that is not considered, by those who pay it, the equivalent of working the leper ward. If they don�t offer it to me then all I am is back to square one ( = temping), big deal. Why I was applying for a job like that is, OK, because there don�t seem to be any jobs out there for writer-techie-project-manager-whatevers with a certain level of skills and experience. All the jobs are entry level or sub-entry level or else riotously specific; I have that gizmo at Monster where it searches each day�s new listings according to keywords, and for "writer" all I get is things like Senior Programmer/Writer Manager 10+ yrs exp min, for "editor" it�s Catalog Editor, trucking/farming industry equipment, and don�t even get me started about "documentation." I think I�m still not over the heartbreak of the government job that was as if designed for me � that experience gave rise in me to a deep sinkhole of bitterness that is exactly one inch too shallow completely to drown the stupid babyish holdout faith I have in the existence a terrific job, and in my getting to do it. I will the bitterness to expand, to swell and conquer, because especially after that embarrassment it is horrifying to find myself still thinking that someday someone will give me some credit, I seem to myself dumber than my cat. Than Steve�s cat, even. But no, my faith is waterlogged and weary and still the bitch won�t die. And I know that deep down where no irony can reach, I should be proud of that � but I am weary too.

I said the sentence in the course of a conversation about the requirements for admission to the M.A. program at the University of Washington, which I looked up yesterday afternoon. The sticking point is that "preferably" they want a full undergraduate major in either Greek or Latin or both, and I don�t have that � my college didn�t offer it � instead I have Classics, which means I got some credits for, like, Greek and Roman Art History and Hittite (but oh good, not all that many after all, I am realizing). 400-level classes, if you please. I never know how stringent these things are, by which I mean I never know how stringent to act as if. Do I not even apply because I don�t have the right undergrad major and they�ll think I�m a jerk for trying to get away with something? In a hypothetical statement of purpose, would I be wise to meet the problem head on and spend some time explaining why I ought to be given a chance despite not having optimal preparation? Or would that come off as defensive? Steve says no no and yes, and that I shouldn�t go wringing my hands already and bracing myself for the possibility that I�ll have to throw in the towel � which on the one hand is not exactly what�s going on, that is a rather extreme way to put it but then on the other hand that�s when I said what I said. And who the hell is this person who�s the all-time job-interview intimidator and still that�s what comes out of her mouth?

Argh.

Update: Steve says that it�s possible they loved my bullshit so much that references would be superfluous. Aww. He also says oh my god that Assistant chick is psycho, and that I would go insane if I had to work with her. Is he right?