Wierd Interview

I arrived at the tiny box of an office early, two minutes after a girl dressed in a trendy but conservative suit. Another girl sitting behind the cutout square in the wall gave us a form to fill out and told us to wait. As we did so, three more young people filtered in, each saying they had an appointment at the same time and with the same person as we did.

I looked at the form with mild disbelief. First question: birthdate. That's illegal!, I thought. Age discrimination! But I put it down anyway, realizing that the younguns around me would do so without hesitation, out of ignorance or out of pride they were born in the 80s. Maybe even the late 80s.

Second question: social security number. Oh, what the heck, I thought. Somehow this request bothered me much less than the birthdate. I finished the form and the trendy girl and I chatted about the odd array of magazines: teeny boppers and luxury cars.

"At my last interview, they had The Office playing in the waiting room," she said, and we laughed about how we all know some Michael Scott's and Dwight Shrewt's.

Finally I get called in by the interviewer, a girl who looked to be about 22. As I stood up, my purse strap got caught on the arm of the chair and after I fumbled it free, she said, "It's okay," as if forgiving me for my awkward dopiness. I stood up and smiled, thinking, Oh no, don't even, I can totally be more sophisticated than you DUDETTE!! I straightened my too-large blouse and pants, an outfit that my French father-in-law would call "classic"--meaning "old."

As she gave me a quick, well-rehearsed blurb on the company, I stared at her acne-sprinkled face and listened to her perky voice, determined to maintain my pasted-on smile. This girl was definitely a cheerleader, I said to myself. She asked me why I was interested in this position. Because I have to pretend like I'm interested in every job, silly girl! Actually, this place is freaking me out and I'm sure you only want recent college grads, not an almost-30- something mommy!

I answered the questions as clearly and concisely as possible, always reading into what her questions really mean. "Are you a people person?" she asks, her smile never fading for a second. That is, can I go up to complete strangers and try to get money from them? I think. "Yes, I think I am. I get along with pretty much everyone." Which is true, by the way--I just didn't mention that it takes me a while to warm up to people, to get over my initial shyness.

Toward the end she asked if I would be available for an all-day trial the next day. This forced me into a corner. I stammered, finally giving in: "Well, I need to arrange for...childcare," I surrendered. I heard the WHAM! of that final nail going into my almost-30-something coffin. A coffin I was happy to have closed, nonetheless.

Or so I thought. The girl called me back for a second interview. I guess I'm not as old as I thought.