Overqualified

I just returned from my first job interview in about 20 years, give or take a decade. Notice that I said “interview” and not “audition”. It was for a receptionist position at a local spa. Having recently been employed in the fitness industry as a personal trainer I figured I’d be a shoe-in. Perhaps I am. The jury’s still out on that one…

I show up to the interview about 10 minutes early, you want to give a good first impression of course. I’m dressed “smart and casual”. No tie. Not for a spa. You're supposed to evoke relaxing thoughts to guests, not remind them of their daily grind.

I think I look pretty damn good.

I am greeted by not one, but two women. They are both in their mid-twenties (at the most), dressed in business suits, wearing too much jewelry and carrying clipboards. I introduce myself politely and we move into the hotel’s lobby to conduct the interview.

I thought I handled the whole situation rather admirably. I never stumbled, never faltered, never tripped over my own words or had to re-phrase my sentences. I answered their questions quickly and to the point.

The first girl to speak, we'll call her Interviewer #1 , has a lazy eye. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been in this situation, but it’s very hard to distinguish which eye you should be looking into.

I take the safe route and stare at the bridge of her nose.

She glances down at her clipboard (with her good eye) and presents me with a “situation”. I'm pretty sure she was reading from the cliff notes for "How To Conduct An Interview For Dummies".

“You’re at the front desk. A person is checking-out. Another person is checking-in. The phone starts ringing…what do you do?”

Gee, I didn’t realize there was a psychiatric evaluation for a receptionist job at a spa.

I answer her question to the best of my ability and we continue.

I tell them of my days working in many different countries around the world, as well as throughout the United States. I also, of course, touch on my days working as a personal trainer in Las Vegas.

Interviewer #2 is just sitting there, pretending to listen.

A forced half-smile is plastered on her face.

She is staring blankly at the air.

Is there some reason she's present? Is she a deaf/mute? Does she have vocal chords?

Interviewer #1 poses another mind-boggling question... “You DO understand that this is an entry level position, right?”

Of course I do. I just spent the better part of last year face down in a gutter watching my life flow silently toward the storm drain. Not that I'm telling her that.

I tell her “yes”, and that I had recently moved to the area "to be with family”. She doesn’t need to know the whole "situation".

Hell, even I don’t want to know the whole "situation".

Interviewer #1 continues.“You seem overqualified for this position...”

Wow.

Now there’s a shocker.

Look, I'll take a shift shoveling sheets of shriveled sheep shit in Shanghai right now...I just need to feel like a useful member of society again.

That, and I need to GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS HOUSE!!!

Listen interviewer ladies, I empathize with your situation.

Honestly, I do.

I know who you’re really looking to hire is a ditzy, airhead, 20-year-old, bleach-blonde bimbo who spends the whole day manicuring her fingernails, popping her bubble gum and touching up her already too-heavy makeup while ignoring the phone and making the customers feel like they’re a nuisance.

Cut a guy some slack will ya? I’m trying to pick myself up off the floor here…

"Brain and brain, what is brain?" - Star Trek TOS

This is your brain...

This is your brain on 2008.

Any Questions?

Wintertime in Northern California

My older brother Kingfisher and I recently got lost (on purpose) in a Northern California Winter Wonderland.

Poor us . . .

Native Sons of the Golden West

My alarm clock went off this morning at 6:30 a.m.

I’ve been recruited to help my step-father of 26 years set up for his Parlor’s annual “Crab Feed”. By “Parlor” I mean that it’s a group of emasculated old guys, milling around aimlessly, devouring dead animals and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon. They spend the evening regaling each other with stories from their glory days, trying to remind each other what it is to be MEN and reassuring each other that they still are…

The Crab Feed is a fundraiser for the organization…wait a minute, did I just say ORGANIZATION? This group of guys is anything but…

First of all, the youngest person there, besides myself, was at least 55 years old.

I’ve never been witness to such a massive collection of plaid flannel shirts in my entire life. The one guy NOT wearing plaid was wearing a T-shirt with a cartoon of a massively large-breasted girl draped over the hood of an “off-road” truck with the words “Tits Or Tires” emblazoned across the front.

As yet another 4X4 came roaring up the road we all headed outside to unload. It’s important to have a gas-guzzling off-road vehicle in the suburbs you know. One bumper sticker on the back of the car read “No Bama” and another was an endorsement for “Bush/Cheney”. As we unloaded, I noticed quite a few solid steel plates on the bed of the truck. They were at least an inch thick and weighed a ton. The driver smiled toothlessly at me and said that they were “perfect for stopping the buckshot from my 50-caliber shotgun“…never mind the ricochet.

Moving back inside, I see another plaid flannel shirt up near the stage trying to tune a guitar…badly. It’s going to be auctioned off later that evening. Strum…STRUM…S-T-R-U-M!!!

He’s a rock star don’t you know.

My ears are bleeding.

I stop by the table(s) of items to be auctioned off later that evening to take a look. One item catches my eye. It’s a small, round trashcan with the words “Cowboy Stuff” printed on the front.

Inside? The tag reads “Beers and Nuts”.

Another item? A giant wheelbarrow with a shovel and a hoe.

Just then, a commotion stirs outside the front of the building. I go out to investigate. There’s a large Alpaca…yes, a llama…near the entrance.

It is wearing a Rastafarian wig and hat. I glance at his nametag…“Van Gogh”.

Stepping back inside, I see a woman working to “straighten” the chairs I have already put down.

Ten feet behind her? A man un-straightening them.

Ten feet behind him? Another man un-un-straightening them.

Cutting across the back of the room, I happen upon my step-father. He is standing there regally, hands on his hips, surveying the scene. Taking a deep, satisfying breath he turns to me and says, “Now this is where the ACTION is!”.

When all the tables have been set up and all the chairs have been put in their places, every guy in the building grabs his cell phone and starts dialing. He’s important! Somebody must have been trying to reach him, right?

By this time, all the coffee that’s been keeping me going all morning is making me want to, well, go.

I scan the room. Nothing.

I go outside and survey the building. Nothing.

Back inside, as I’m standing in a corner of the room looking perplexed, a man approaches me and asks if I need some help. “I’m just looking for the bathroom”, I say. He looks at me blankly and points directly behind me.

I’m standing not 2 feet in front of the door.

Oh my god, I’m becoming one of them…

Scott 1 and Scott 2

In the Dr. Seuss book “The Cat in the Hat”, we were introduced to a pair of troublemakers, Thing 1 and Thing 2. These two quirky characters would take the bull by the horns and all-out mayhem would ensue.

The same metaphor could be applied to my life. Before, there was Scott 1. Now, there’s Scott 2. The major difference is that Thing 1 and Thing 2 were identical twins, Scott 1 and Scott 2 are polar opposites...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Scott 1 could take the bull by the horns.

Scott 2 can’t find a bull.

Scott 1 had a career and a life most people would envy. He knew just what, and where, to try next.

Scott 2 is standing on a road that forks in several hundred directions…none of them very promising.

Scott 1 knew just what he wanted, and most of the time, he went out and got it.

Scott 2 isn’t even sure what to eat for breakfast.

Scott 1 had a memory like a steel trap.

Scott 2 has a memory like a steel colander.

Scott 1 was surrounded by friends and lovers who cheered his successes and saw him through the rough patches.

Scott 2 is standing alone in the barren wasteland of his own mind.

Scott 1 felt strong, almost invincible at times.

Scott 2 has a hard time just getting out of bed most days.

Scott 1 could solve the most complex puzzle with ease.

Scott 2 gets puzzled trying to remember where he left his keys.

Scott 1 knew his place in the world.

Scott 2 does not.

Scott 1 was half-full.

Scott 2 is half-empty...