Danrambles’s Weblog

I’ve been desperately searching for a new job since the bar I worked at closed a little over a month ago. Unfortunately, I’ve had very little luck. A few prospects, a couple jobs that seemed they were going to work out but something randomly happened before it came time for me to start, and one job, a restaurant, that I worked at for two days before quitting. I think that job would have sucked the life out of me though, and everytime I went in I battled panic attacks on the way… so it’s probably for the best that I left.
I know I’m picky.. I have this terrible mentality that I’m ‘too good’ for most jobs that I’d have a chance at getting. I think it’s time that I start looking past that though, as my savings account has emptied and my checking account is quickly dwindling. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m bartending two nights a week at my old nightclub.. so that’s something. But since they’re only open now three days a week, it’s obviously not enough to live on. Some form of a steady income has to come soon. Very, very soon.
So today I went on Job Interview #27. It was for a bartending gig at one of the nicest hotels around here. The hours were ideal (5pm-11pm) and they were happy to work around my school schedule (when I can afford to go back to school) and my two nights at the club. I was so excited and hopeful that everything would work out.
Of course, I miscalculated how far away the hotel was from my house. Upon setting up the GPS for the address, my devil-may-care, computerized GPS friend Melissa informed me that we were 23 minutes away. And I had ten minutes before the interview was scheduled to start. I booked it to the hotel and arrived a little over ten minutes late. Already a bad start. If only the worst of it had been being late…
The lady doing the interview was cute. Probably mid-thirties, attractive, and wearing a low-cut shirt underneath her suit jacket. For some reason, I could not stop looking at her boobs. What the hell. It got to the point that I was consciously telling myself ‘don’t look at her boobs….don’t look at her boobs.’ I think that only made matters worse because then I was less focused on what she was asking and more intent on reminding myself to keep my eyes up. I’m a master of checking out guys without them noticing…but for some reason was powerless at that moment. Eventually, she caught me glancing down. It could not have been any more of an awkward moment. There was an uncomfortable pause, and then the interview continued. I had to fix things somehow, so I gayed out. Even though it didn’t relate to what she was asking, I started talking about how the last two places I worked were both gay bars… hoping she’d realize I was queer and my tit-glance meant nothing. I tried to act as gay as possible, too. Really I did everything besides pulling out a rainbow flag in hopes that she wouldn’t think I was some straight dude enjoying the show. The interview soon ended, with what was I’m sure an empty promise to get back to me later in the week.
Job Interview #28 is scheduled for Wednesday at noon. I don’t even neccassarily want the job I’m interviewing for, so I suppose it’s a good thing that I’ll probably fail it miserably.