Three interviewers formed a ring around me today, as I sat sheepishly at the head of a conference table.
Each wrote notes on a grid as I spoke, and threw questions at me, machine-gun style, one interviewer to a question, over and over again.
My legs crossed, sweaty, over each other, as perspiration rings grew large under my arms.
After awhile, I grew damn sick of the mild interrogation, stern looks, and um hmms, so I became irreverent.
People take themselves so seriously, don't they? It's just a job, people.
I'm not meant for this! I'm intended for a crazy workplace, with basketball nets on the backs of doors, and dry wit on the tip of everyone's tongue.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
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