So Where Do I See Myself In Five Years??

Anxiety about the interview tomorrow is already descending upon me like a iron curtain of, well, anxiety. I know what they will probably ask, because, in my experience, most interviews consist of more or less the same questions. They will probably ask about a time when I took the initiative and solved a problem at work, which is pretty moot, since I've been working in a dental lab for several years. They will ask what strengths and weaknesses I would bring to the position, with the implication that my weakness should actually a strength, i.e., "Sometimes I am just too commited to my work!" These vague sorts of questions are the worst for me: I can tell them why I think I would be good for their institution, but when we're dealing in vaguaries, I just sieze up. I'm considering typing out crib notes so that I can be prepared for possible questions: one of the benefits of a phone interview is that I won't have to look them in the eyes.

Of course, it also gives them the opportunity to assess me solely on my telephone voice and attitude, which suddenly makes me nervous. Which it shouldn't, since I spent a year and a half working in call centers. I just hate my voice. I sound like a fey version of my dad, with my mom's Hoosier tendency to talk slowly and deliberately thrown in for good measure.

In the meantime, my mom keeps entreating me every chance she gets to let them know that I would be very enthusiastic to be hired by this institution and to move to this Undisclosed City. Which I would, and had planned to let them know anyways, so I just get annoyed that she's nagging me. No one wants me to get a job more than I do!

I finished reading Isaac Adamson's Tokyo Suckerpunch last night. It turned out to be much better than I expected, which I may go into more depth at a later time. Now I'm going to finish Carol Emshwiller's Carmen Dog tonight.

Apropos of nothing, BoingBoing had a bit yesterday about Detroit's salt mines. I remember Mr. Brooks, my 4th and 5th grade teacher, talking about that was where people were supposed to go in the event of a nuclear war. (He would also discuss his brother's inoperable brain tumor with the class; he was a bid morbid.) Ah, the halcyon days of the Cold War! I've always wanted to go down into the mines, and am disappointed to see that it does not offer public tours anymore.

And, in case you missed it, The Amazing Adventures of Chabon and Lethem. Funny, funny stuff! (via Gwenda, via Maud.)