The Interview that Never Was

Finally out the door an hour and a half early at a little after 10am, because I have the system in mind. This Windsor bus system is garabage isn't it? Ok, so more like an hour and fifteen minutes. I take the 1C and the bus driver is wearing biker gloves and shades -- all tough like a football player. But he's got this happy bluesy music playing. But it's not even bluesy so much as something you'd expect to hear playing in Sears while you shop with your grandmother. That really bad old mall music like CHAY FM. LITE ROCK. You know the type. Barry Manilow meets Elton John and no words at all. I wanted to puke.

So I ask the bus driver how to get onto the DOUGALL 6 because I need a transfer to get up to 2536 Dougall for my job interview. He says get off at Ouellette and Wynadotte. Except I don't get off then. I get off before at University and Ouellette, because the matured gentleman ahead of me smiling to the kind woman much to his age says, "Oh this is my stop. I'm getting off here. Talk to you later." At which point I think, "oh, must be time for me to get off." No. No, James. No. So I walk up downtown Ouellette, thank goodness during the early day, when the creeps aren't out yet. Sure to see, I think the DOUGALL 6 up ahead stopped and go. I get to the stop and it says the next bus comes at 11:13am. My interview is 11:30am. Quick math says time to start walking. I consider getting a cab, then consider the time it will take for the cab to come plus the time to get there and figure might as well take the bus. So I walk the some 1500 units south along Ouellette which I think turns into Dougall. I realize I'm still running late. I notice another bus. TRANSWAY 1A. I take this up to Ouellette and it starts to turn left. But I don't want to go onto Tecumseh, so I'm yanking on the yellow cord. I jump off and start to run through Jackson Park, in my suit. Then I see the fence, so I turn through the main gate to the sidewalk. Then the sidewalk slips back inside the fence. I figure I'll just come out the other side. Well the other side is a bridge. And fence. Higher fence. No way out and I'm not walking all the way back around. So I imagine I'm Neo from The Matrix now, and pray the pointy tips of the fence don't bite too much into my black dress shoes. Or try to draw holes in my slacks, or suit jacket.

I make it over. The cars are coming over and I can't see them coming too well and there's construction. So I'm skittering in and out of half dug up road to the other side. Some suited carnival gopher nearly getting malleted by a car. Then there's another fence and a park, and a street, I think, because cars go by. I assume that's Dougall, my goal, over there and so I hop this fence. Parks suck at absorbing water. Puddles every where and I fail to miss most. But I some how make it to the rim of grass propped out between the flood plains and the wet sand beneath the swings and from there manage to a dry parking lot. A thought then. Parking lot equals road. I follow it out, and I am at Dougall and suprisingly around 2200 Dougall, where the tracks are and the Classic Bingo (not 1 but) 2. Classic Bingo 2 as if it needed a sequel! And Rose Bowl Lanes. I contine that way, but there are swollen plazas every where and I can't see the numbers on them for their distance from the main drag. Until that one jewlery shop, 2 3 something something. Almost there and the watch says 11:10am and I think I might be early. I finally see it, and there's two guys out front, dressed and I half think these are managers, stupidly ask them where I ought to go. Next thing I see Chris come out the door, and I figure he's going for the same job as me. Now I know I have competition and hate him.

Go in, and I sit down, because the whiteboard says: "have a seat, fill out an application and wait for us to call you for your interview." There's a door that says, "Managers Only" in blue. I sit and wait, and there's no application form. Twenty minutes later, Cameron comes in from his car. He has driven from Toronto and here we all sit, myself and thirteen competition. And I'm waiting for my interview. Well, this Cameron fellow tries to rally us and tell us how awesome we can be, that we're all hired! (AND I'M THINKING, BUT I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD MY INTERVIEW YET!) And I tell him so at the break, and he says you're not supposed to be here, but he says don't worry about it, I'll figure it out. He doesn't really, so I'm left hanging around, which is always a good Idea if you want a job. I learned a lot and I got a free pizza and a can of pop, so I'm happy. Then 4pm comes and I ask him what I should do, and he says come in tomorrow, again, with the rest of the gang, which I do. I can fill out an application and not to worry about it.

So I have a job? Without an interview? Apparently, most interviews went something like: "what's the difference between a job and a career? Good answer. Come back in tomorrow. . ." No kidding. Sales. We need a lot of folks to just sell for us right now. Suck it up and sell it. Do it, and well, and you are good to go. Otherwise, good bye next month. This is how they work. I'm still wondering what happened to my interview.