Aaaaaaaaaaahhh summer jobs: Part one of two

Most people are crossing off the days, gleeful as each passing hour brings them one hour closer to summer. Normally, I would be jumping on this bandwagon. I would be driving the four mules dragging the bandwagon, bassoons swaying in the wind! But not this time. Instead, I am the lone patriot, ugly and loyal, clawing desperately at each passing hour. Stay! Just stay a while longer. I shake. I tremble. I fear the great abyss. I have a toothache I am a giant cockroach and my hair is thinning.

Why this role reversal, this dread of the impending summer? I don’t have a job.

I was so ahead of the game, and applied to bunches of places over winter break. While some people were catching up with friends I too was catching up with my friend – MR. INTERNSHIP. Booyah! But here is the thing I have learned about being ahead of the game — it just gives the referees more time to reject you.

This job business is just like dating, and I am exhausted. I wish I could date my interviewers and send a cover letter to everyone I want to date. That way, NBC can spill coffee on me and the entire Yale football team will read how I learned to operate under the pressure of strict deadlines by operating under the pressure of strict deadlines.

If I were playing charades and the thing I drew out of the box said “how you feel about your summer” I would slap my knee with an imaginary pool noodle.

I will avoid specifics of my job hunt because they are embarrassing. Suffice it to say that I have received no offers. Actually, one offer. I forwarded it to my mother who thought it was a joke. She responded, “what is this? your hilarious.”

I did manage to secure a single interview. For this I bought a collared shirt and pants as well as a belt. I then bought a train ticket and a bagel. I also bought The New York Times and read it all so I could intelligently discuss current events. When I got to the interview I was overdressed. I found this out because I was sitting by a golden retriever. My interviewer was wearing pajamas and she asked me two questions. One was why do you want to work here, but then the phone rang so I didn’t get to answer. I think maybe she accidentally switched me and her friend on the phone in her mind, because she talked to them for a real long time and when she hung up she just asked what I was doing that weekend. And that was really the only question I hadn’t prepared for. So we shook hands and she sent me scurrying away. I bought another train ticket and some coffee and got a full body rash because apparently my body is allergic to collared shirts, trains, rejection, wasting money and realizing I am not really good on paper either.

The good thing about being rejected is that somehow, magically and instantly, as soon as you are rejected you realize you never wanted that job anyway. It’s like when John Kerry lost the presidential election. Publicly he had to feign disappointment, but private and personal papers have him quoted as saying, “Didn’t want that anyway too much work Vietnam juicy burger.”

Sometimes it takes a while to come to terms with the blows. When I got rejected from my interview, this is what I said: “Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me. I’m so hollow, baby, I’m so hollow. I’m so, I’m so, I’m so hollow. I’m so hollow, baby, I’m so hollow.”

“I’m so, I’m so, I’m so hollow. I’m so hollow, baby, I’m so hollow. I’m so, I’m so, I’m so hollow.”

You might recognize those words. Or you may not.

Molly Green previously did not own pants.

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