I have an interview tomorrow. I should be nervous, or at least preparing for the usual interview questions I know will be asked. Instead, all I am concerned about is what I am going to wear.
This is what I do. This is how I cope. When everything else in my life is falling apart, I straighten my hair and actually put on make-up. Somehow, having control over my appearance makes things better.
This is the first real interview I’ve ever had. When I got the job I am working at now, the interview consisted of J coming home and asking, “Want to write some documentation?” And once a full time spot came open, they just moved my stuff from the little table in the back to the empty desk.
I know I can make these people realize that I am the answer to all that is lacking at their company. But in my mind, I’m thinking that unless my hair has no fly-aways and my shirt is perfectly pressed, they won’t want me there. They will realize that if my appearance is so haphazard, then my work ethic must be the same way.
I am freaking out right now. I think I’ll go shopping and find the perfect interview shirt.