One of the many reasons I've never been tempted to become an actress is I become completely confused when I have to deliver prepared lines. This morning I had an interview at a placement agency, and they have a useful HR search tool that involves job-hopefuls addressing a video camera with a few sentences about themselves, their qualifications and interests. Prior to my sitting down in the chair and speaking to the tiny device on the large tripod, I was given a pamphlet with some guidelines and empty spaces into which I could pen ideas for things to say. I managed to stutter out an approximation of what were much more fluent written phrases after about six takes. I was assured that complimentary editing would be employed, and resolved to leave my fate in the hands of the professionals. I am much more poised than I used to be, but knowing the camera was recording, I was gripped by stage fright to a degree I haven't had since high school. That being said, the ladies at the agency were very kind, straightforward and professional, and said they may already have a lead on a technical writing job for me already. I need to take several online assessments of my computer skills first, but I wanted to be rested before I attempted them, and except for a nap between 6 and 8 AM, as of 3 PM I had been awake since just after midnight.
This was not the insomnia which frequently plagues me, but the fact that I was anticipating a furniture delivery at 2 AM. That might seem an odd time to expect one, but I'd asked the same fellow who did my move to Georgia to pick up a bedframe I'd bought from an eBay seller in New York State, and the inclement weather put him even more behindhand than usual. Initially, he'd said I'd get the frame midafternoon Tuesday. Then, it was 2 AM Wednesday. At 4 AM I texted him to ask whether he'd an update on his ETA, and he responded that he'd just gone through Atlanta. He finally pulled up in front of my house at 5:30 AM. The bed is beautiful--my mother's all-purpose teenager is supposed to come over tomorrow or Friday to help me assemble it. I still don't have a rug for my guest room, but that is going to have to wait, because the placement people said that even if the company they have in mind wants to interview me, it will be at least two weeks. And, my little Honda is in the shop, having its axles and brakes replaced, to the tune of $700.
Even before I looked up the possible diagnosis on internet auto repair sites, I figured I had a bum axle--when I turned the wheel sharply, I was getting a growing cog-wheel popping sound from the front. Given that the car has almost 200,000 miles on it, this is not an unexpected repair. I had not noticed issues with the brakes and shoes, but my father had said they had some life left in them four years ago, and it is not at all unreasonable that they'd reached the end of their use now. I took the car to a service station my stepfather swears by, and I did not get the feeling they were trying to sell me a bill of goods, though the bill for the goods I needed is considerable! Still, less than the car is worth, and much, much less than what it would cost to replace it.
I have been debating for a while about taking down the "Bossy Non-Boss" post of a couple of months ago. Although the person in question was not named, of course, nor identified in any great detail, I'd hate for someone to recognize her and treat her with prejudice because of my singular experience. Also, I did forgive her before more than a couple of days had passed, which took a tremendous weight off my mind and spirit, and meant both she and I could relax for Thanksgiving and return to work together afterwards. She and I actually spent more time together after my goodbye luncheon, and she wished me well before I left town. I think I will let it stand for the time being, reminding myself and readers that I've screwed up and offended others in some really spectacular ways myself, and that no one's personality remains static--by God's grace, we can sweeten and better, where we were sour and worse.