or as I say in real life- come F*%k me heels.
So last friday I had my final interview for this Job i've been going after. Got up early- Got dressed in my professional Button up striped shirt with the faux-popped ruffle collar (very cute and 7 dollars, win win buy there!) and black slacks and black "i work in a bank" heels. Professional, simple, but not old lady. Did my hair, the make-up etc so forth and so on.
Walked down to the hotel in which the interview was held (the majority of interviews here are held in hotels....i found this strange but each to his own). I went to reception and told the woman there who I was having the interview with. She told me to go through the door behind me, up the stairs, through the door to the right and there is a seating area. Sit there and wait for my interviewer. So I follow directions- I go and sit. I'm sitting there, trying to look cool, casual and professional. After about ten minutes I hear a door open in a hallway down towards the left. I hear a man asking for me. I hear another girl go, "oh- thats not me". He says, oh well she must be running late and says I'll come grab you in a minute. I rush into the hallway and see there is another seating area that was not mentioned to me. (GRRR screw the receptionist for being vague and for me for not being more careful!) I knocked on the door and explain to my interviewer what happened- we both had a little laugh and I'm secretly hoping he still didn't think I was really late and trying to bluff my way through it.
So we sit down- he asks me to tell him all about who I am. Well I give him the brief overview of the abbreviated version of who I am. I was born in the states- I worked a lot, went to college and got two degrees, worked some more. Met an Irish guy, decided we liked each other. moved to Limerick. Now I'm sitting here talking to you. wa-la. Then comes the question answer part of the interview. The meat and two veg. This man has some interesting things to say. Like for instance comparing working at a jewelry store to being a fire fighter. I understand his point, but honestly saving lives versus selling watches? no comparison in my book- but I nod my head and go along with this story.
He then proceeds to tell me what a day would potentially be like at work. on my feet from 9 am until perhaps 9 pm (been there done that, have a t-shirt, post card and several battle wounds). He then says its not all fun and games- see you girls aren't like the lads. The lads sit on their hour long lunch break and read the paper, you girls are tempted being around so many stores and you go and shop on your feet for your lunch hour. On the outside I dumbly nod and smile and decide to keep my trap shut because a job interview is not the time to tell someone they are being sexist. on the inside?? well thats a different story- the feminist section of my brain is going into shock mode....things are going through my mind like- did I just hear that right? wait, lets replay this, maybe i heard him wrong (replay)....nope, he said that. wow. what an ass. I hope i get this job cause if I dont i need to find this guy and tell him his is an sexist pig. seriously is this what he thinks of women? Do i look like someone who sits on my ass eating bon-bons and watching stories all day?? .....there were also some choice words circling in my brain for a bit.
Pushed my reason aside and continued the interview. I remembered to emphasize a lot of the things I had learned about the company in the first interview. even mentioning an employee training program that they are nuts about. possible brownie points? lets hope so. He asks me about my previous pay in the states, we throw around some shaky conversion rates and he tells me that the pay there isn't far off and that people dont complain about pay if you know what he means- ha ha wink wink.
Well interview ends. I think him for his time and he tells me I will hear something either way at the end of the next week. I walk out and see the other people waiting for their interviews. They all looked like this:
Complete sex-kitten secretary types. They all had large breasts, perfect hair, lots of make, skirts with a slit way way up the thigh (in the back- keeping professional ya know) and come F*%k me heels on. After walking through the sex sells gauntlet I trudged back to the apartment and drowned my sorrows in coffee and vain attempts in waking my husband up so I could obsess over the finer points of the interview with him.
Needless to say- I was assured that this attitude is normal for older Irish men (seriously he was like 50- too young for that BS!), and that my chances are good, and just because they look good doesn't mean they will interview well. Heres to hoping these sex-kittens were all as smart as a bag of hammers. And I'm hoping if they do get hired, as do I, they are competent, hard working people who wear the same size shoe as me. Cause sharing is caring.
And on a side note- This woman wins my vigilante of the year award. I found this gem on a great blog by a woman who calls her self Snooker and lives in Berlin. I love reading her blog- she makes me love Berlin more than I already do. Please go check her blog out- its good reading!
Snooker in Berlin