An 8-hour interview extravaganza (8 people, 8 hours) was extended to 9.5 hours (9 people, 9.5 hours!). I know that I’m lucky for the opportunity but way to take me from the minor leagues to the Olympic decathalon (yeah, I know baseball is not an Olympic event. Roll with it). I reached deep for my inner Derek Jeter/Gold medal decathlete (Bruce Jenner?) and ate my Wheaties.
Of course, I didn’t sleep that night. I had nervous energy, tossed and turned and cursed myself under and over my breath. At 2am, I got up and hit the treadmill in my building's gym. Totally insane and unsafe. After I’d run a mile, a really weird guy briskly came into the gym and I hightailed it out of there. Ironically, the running/fear combo did the trick. I fell asleep. Until my 6am wake up.
I went to my first interview at 7:30am and then had a break to get my first of 4 lattes. Over the course of the day, I just kept telling myself, “YOU CAN DO IT!” like that horrible infomercial guy with the curly ponytail.
At one break, I went to the ladies room. There wasn’t a tissue toilet cover and I won’t sit on a public toilet. I squatted and did my business. I quickly realized that I peed on the back of my pant leg (just a little bit). Ready to cry (fatigue and caffeine crash combo) I dabbed and wet the spot, let out a sigh and moved forward.
In the next interview, when talking about tweens and social media, the interviewer said, “Isn’t it terrible for tweens? Imagine being known as the girl that peed on herself not only in your school but to anyone on Facebook?” I gulped. Is she trying to tell me that I smelled like pee? Naw, paranoia. Or so I think.
Well, readers, it worked out because I just got a job offer and accepted. The secret? A lot of hard work, caffeine, lack of sleep, 2am running and the faint aroma of urine. You’re welcome, America.