good news for people who love bad news
Okay, so honestly it really was good news that was merely masquerading as bad news. This morning, after RPTS and a lovely breakfast of eggs, hash browns, and beans, I went deep into the bowels of the Koldus Building to retrieve my Muster Committee letter.
A note on the application process: I first turned in a copy of my written app (I was supposed to give them three copies but failed to read the directions all the way through) and was granted an interview. Business attire was required for the interview, which automatically threw me off. I wear a t-shirt and jeans to work; I am so far unaccustomed to the world of blazers and neck ties. (I wouldn't last a day on The Apprentice for this reason, among many others)
The interview itself was alright, but therein lies the problem- it was just alright. I said the right things, but something failed to click. The interviewers seemed distant. There was no spark. My mouth was dry and my palms were not. While I don't mean to make this all seem more dire and terrible than it was (because in fact it wasn't all that bad of an interview, really), but it didn't seem comfortable to me. It just didn't feel right, and the interview is a fairly good indicator regarding the tone of an organization. So this was my read: too formal, stuffy, and just sort of uncomfortable. They're swell people I'm sure; they're just not really my style of people, is all.
This realization makes it much easier for me to swallow the fact that, essentially, I'm not really their style of person either. Discomfort is usually a two-way street, and with that in mind, I was a bit relieved I didn't make the cut. Another group I applied for has its meetings on the same night; I find out about that one on Wednesday. If the letter is similar, I'll be a little more upset. Then again, the bars are open every night, and I've got a great girlfriend.
"Life - is - good!"
- Craig Kilborn
A note on the application process: I first turned in a copy of my written app (I was supposed to give them three copies but failed to read the directions all the way through) and was granted an interview. Business attire was required for the interview, which automatically threw me off. I wear a t-shirt and jeans to work; I am so far unaccustomed to the world of blazers and neck ties. (I wouldn't last a day on The Apprentice for this reason, among many others)
The interview itself was alright, but therein lies the problem- it was just alright. I said the right things, but something failed to click. The interviewers seemed distant. There was no spark. My mouth was dry and my palms were not. While I don't mean to make this all seem more dire and terrible than it was (because in fact it wasn't all that bad of an interview, really), but it didn't seem comfortable to me. It just didn't feel right, and the interview is a fairly good indicator regarding the tone of an organization. So this was my read: too formal, stuffy, and just sort of uncomfortable. They're swell people I'm sure; they're just not really my style of people, is all.
This realization makes it much easier for me to swallow the fact that, essentially, I'm not really their style of person either. Discomfort is usually a two-way street, and with that in mind, I was a bit relieved I didn't make the cut. Another group I applied for has its meetings on the same night; I find out about that one on Wednesday. If the letter is similar, I'll be a little more upset. Then again, the bars are open every night, and I've got a great girlfriend.
"Life - is - good!"
- Craig Kilborn
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