California Dreamin' [part VI]
Continued from part V. To read this story from the beginning, go here.
April 26
Still on board United 719
12:35 by my watch
9:35 a.m. San José time
Time to change my watch.
I love my Esquire watch. It's stainless steel with gold trim. Gold coloured, I mean, not real gold. It's not digital; it has arms. It also has a small date display, so small I can't read it without my glasses, but I don't mind, because it's never right, anyway. Today it's displaying 23. I last remember setting it to the correct date on New Year's Day.
It was an expensive watch. I bought it back when I had money. Back when I worked for Internet companies that had lots of it, and an X who also earned some. When I didn't have to walk dogs to supplement my income.
Come to think of it, I bought it the first time I was flown out to California for a job interview, when the X and I were still together and he made me promise that I wouldn't contact Jack while I was there. I kept that promise. It was 1999, and the company that was interested in me was called Geocast. They were considering me for the position of VP of Marketing. They put me up in a fancy hotel and paid for me to rent a car for the weekend, so that I could explore the South Bay area.
They were keen to get me out there, so I thought I'd better dress the part. I bought a new suit in that year's hottest spring colour, pale blue; new sandals—this was California, after all—and a matching purse; a trendy yet professional-looking necklace and matching earrings. And when I tried on this outfit at home with my narrow, gold, bangle-style very 1980s watch, I went back to the mall.
I didn't get the job. No one did. The company went bust instead.
The second time I was flown to California for a job interview was last summer, just before my birthday. I didn't get that job either, though the company didn't go bust. They just didn't want me.
This time, it's not a company that's flying me out for an interview. It's a university: The University of San José. And I'm hoping that three times is the charm.
So you see, Gentle Reader, this trip has nothing to do with Jack.
To be continued in part VII
April 26
Still on board United 719
12:35 by my watch
9:35 a.m. San José time
Time to change my watch.
I love my Esquire watch. It's stainless steel with gold trim. Gold coloured, I mean, not real gold. It's not digital; it has arms. It also has a small date display, so small I can't read it without my glasses, but I don't mind, because it's never right, anyway. Today it's displaying 23. I last remember setting it to the correct date on New Year's Day.
It was an expensive watch. I bought it back when I had money. Back when I worked for Internet companies that had lots of it, and an X who also earned some. When I didn't have to walk dogs to supplement my income.
Come to think of it, I bought it the first time I was flown out to California for a job interview, when the X and I were still together and he made me promise that I wouldn't contact Jack while I was there. I kept that promise. It was 1999, and the company that was interested in me was called Geocast. They were considering me for the position of VP of Marketing. They put me up in a fancy hotel and paid for me to rent a car for the weekend, so that I could explore the South Bay area.
They were keen to get me out there, so I thought I'd better dress the part. I bought a new suit in that year's hottest spring colour, pale blue; new sandals—this was California, after all—and a matching purse; a trendy yet professional-looking necklace and matching earrings. And when I tried on this outfit at home with my narrow, gold, bangle-style very 1980s watch, I went back to the mall.
I didn't get the job. No one did. The company went bust instead.
The second time I was flown to California for a job interview was last summer, just before my birthday. I didn't get that job either, though the company didn't go bust. They just didn't want me.
This time, it's not a company that's flying me out for an interview. It's a university: The University of San José. And I'm hoping that three times is the charm.
So you see, Gentle Reader, this trip has nothing to do with Jack.
To be continued in part VII
Labels: academia, moving to California
3 Comments:
This is me, crossing my fingers for you. *crosses fingers*
I can do this as long as is necessary. No, really.
Much as I do wish you the best of luck, I also hope you aren't forgetting our date for a beer in mid-September in Toronto? :-)
Hoping to hear some good news from you! Remember, if you ever get nervous during an interview, think about the interviewer being naked.
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