A tale of two Thursdays

The good Thursday:

1) I started yesterday off with a kick ass interview at a restaurant chain. I wasn’t sure I wanted to work in a restaurant ever again (two start ups will do that to you…), but I really like the idea of working for them.

They just started the interview process, so who knows how long it will be until I get any news.

2) I saw the National Theatre Live’s showing of “Frankenstein” featuring one Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch. It was really good. HE was really good.

The neat thing about this production was that Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller switched roles every night. I wish he had played the Creation instead of the Doctor, but I really enjoyed both performances.

The best part was when they showed this AMAZING picture of the Cumberbabe before the movie and the older woman behind me gasped (GASPED!) and said “Oh, he’s beautiful! Look at those eyes.” I wanted to turn around and hug her.

The funny part about my fangirling him is that I had no idea who he was at first - I just saw pictures of him on tumblr. I was like whatever… I didn’t think he was particularly good looking, but then I watched Sherlock. And then I started digging in to his acting history. All the interviews. Everything I had the patience for. (I don’t like watching movies on my laptop, especially what’s available on YouTube, so I haven’t seen everything he’s done. Yet.) And then, I fell in love. And THEN, and only then, did I realize how attractive he was.

Come for the talent, stay for the cheekbones.

3) “HUZZAH A SEQUEL!”

“I’m loving this story so much, and will write a more detailed appreciation later, when I don’t have to peck out letters on my iPad at 5 in the morning.”

(They’re scaring the shit out of me. What if “PARIS” doesn’t live up to “HARTFORD”?!?!?!)

The bad Thursday:

1) Blew my second interview of the day. HORRENDOUSLY. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to walk out and leave.

He started pop quizzing me on accounting things. I couldn’t answer some of them - BASIC things. When you work for mom and pop shops, you don’t get into capital vs. operational leases. They just always booked the payments as lease expense - not the note payable, the short term liability, and the interest expense. I couldn’t remember what to do with a prepaid insurance bill either.

I may or may not have cried in my car.

Once I felt better and started to process the actual interview and job description, I wasn’t sure it was a place that I belonged at. I didn’t really like him, quiz or no quiz.

I felt stupid, so I’d have a lot to prove to him, and all I could hear in my head the entire way home was the jackass at the hotel chain making fun of the girl before me because she kept a cheat sheet of accounting things. Yeah, some of them were a little more basic than the concepts I stumbled on, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I keep my intermediate accounting textbook at my desk at work. You never know when you’re going to blank on something stupid… and with the pressure he put on me to “not be lame”, I’m surprised I never needed to resort to it.

Add that high level embarrassment to the fact that I didn’t like him, and… I don’t know what to do.

I haven’t written my thank you note yet - I’m not sure if I want to write “thanks, I look forward to speaking with you again” or “laterz, dude”.

2) A hearty FUCK YOU to the fine people in Rockport, Essex, and Ipswich. NINE gas stations within fifteen minutes of each other, and NONE of them open after 9 PM. I came within a few miles of needing to call Triple A for an emergency gas fill up. I did finally find one in Georgetown(? I really don’t know where I was at that point) and ended up spending $0.25 a gallon more than I could have paid at any of the other gas stations…

I wonder if they wait until the other ones are closed and then jack their prices up.

——

In other news, I went to the Social Security office today. Had to raise a bit of a stink when they asked me to take my belt off and then asked me to remove my hands from my waist. (THE JEANS WERE FALLING OFF. I would have rather had a pat down than show every one my “I need to do laundry desperately” granny panties.)

I didn’t think the kid was going to help me at first, but I gave him my ID, my birth certificate and my mother’s birth certificate, PLUS their social security numbers. Privacy laws, be damned. I proved that I deserved access to that information. I don’t think anyone has every been able to show lineage like that!!! I also asked him if he wanted to see a picture of their gravestone. (Yes, I do have one. There’s a woman buried with them and I don’t know who she is. Another project for another day.)

I found out that my grandfather was indeed born in Poland. (WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!)

However, for every happy, there is a sad: I don’t think the town exists anymore, which is problematic. Google refused to find it, and offered me a city in Russia instead.

Russia is not acceptable, so I’m probably back to square one.

Motherfucker.

In funny news, my phone can recognize and spell check COCKSUCKINGMOTHERFUCKINGDOUCHEBAGS, but insists on changing well to we’ll, which I totally don’t understand. It also can’t spell Tuesday correctly. (Dear Apple, you might want to look into your iPhone’s spell check programming.)

OK - off to look for more jobs (need to hit my quota!) and then, speaking of quotas, NaNo starts today!