The Word of Choice

There has been a lot of change in my life recently. I’ve got my first apartment, returned to singlehood, met my new best friend, etc etc. (I’m sure we’ll talk about each one in time.)

One of the bigger aspects of my new life was my quest to find a new occupation. I used to sell video game consoles to unspecting grandparents and rednecks. 

But that wasn’t enough for me. Even though the job had its perks (DISCOUNTS WOO!) I figured I would look elsewhere. 

That’s when my best friend told me that her job had been hiring.

 What job you say? Let me just say one word…

PUPPIES. 

Yes. Puppies. I would get paid to watch puppies. I would be the watcher of cute, cuddley, drooly puppies. THE DEFENDER OF THE CANINES. 

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So, I decided to send Miss Boss Lady an email and patiently await her reply. About a month later or so, I got an interview. 

Granted, this wasn’t a conventional interview. We met up at a local starbucks, while I had been awkwardly wearing clothes that my best friend(and roommate, who for the sake of this blog, we will call Columbus) gave me to wear.

I felt like I was wearing a frilly sausage casing. 

Thankfully, I was sitting down most of the time, so I don’t think Miss Boss Lady noticed. She went on to ask me questions- you know, the usual questions. 

“How do you do under intense stress?”

“Tell me about your work experience?”

All of these questions, I was way too underqualified to answer entirely. And this made me nervous. REALLY nervous. And when I’m nervous, I ramble… a lot. 

She would ask me a question, then I would begin to answer, then skew onto a completely different topic, then fail to answer. 

She gave one word responses. 

I had embarassed myself. 

There was no way I was getting this job. 

I’m not sure what all I told her exactly, but I’m pretty sure I told her that the second time I ever hung out with my roommate, we got drunk together (I’M UNDERAGED), and that at one time I have had over 30 animals, and that my middle initial and last name make “F. WORD”, and that my favorite kind of food is Italian. 

I’m pretty sure I sounded like a dating site commercial. 

Again, there was no way I was getting this job. 

After about an hour of me rambling, she told me she had heard enough and that she would get back to me. 

When I left, I knew that had to be the worst interview of my professional life. I had never worked with animals before,

and I couldn’t imagine I would be very good at it. I wasn’t expeciting to ever hear a reply back. 

So I sat there, my head over the back of the sofa at home, with my patheticness. 

For some reason, the more I thought about how I probably would never get this job, the more I wanted it. Like warm cookies on the counter that your mom told you not to touch. 

I wanted puppies. I wanted tons of them, licking me with slobbery faces and howling with excited anticipation. 

I wanted to be lord of the puppies! 

I was tired of selling consoles and warranties to people who didn’t really need/want them in the first place. 

Then, one day I just so happened to check my email. 

I got the job. I don’t know how, but I did. 

Today, I am lord of the puppies…
Just goes to show that you must always believe in yourself, and that no matter how bad you mess up, there is always a chance. Don’t give up hope! 

Also, the thing about giraffes is a FACT. 
Till next time…