(diaryland) November 24, 2000 - 12:11:20

Today, I went for a job interview. I was worried, because it involved typing, and I can't type. But I decided to go for it anyway.

I shouldn't have worn my huge soiled black boots, for starters. It didn't look particularly secretarial. The important lady who was interviewing me and another chick walked down the important stairs and called me something preposterous like Carolyn, which is nothing like my actual name. Then I made some sort of comment about the weather, but I did it under my breath, so it sounded like I was like one of those people who talks under their breath.

So, anyway, me and this other chick had to do a typing thing. I had this horrid feeling that both she and the important lady would laugh when they found out that I didn't care for typing the way everyone else does. I only use two fingers. One from each hand. But I play piano with all my fingers, so it's OK. Anyway, I was predicting I'd do seventeen words per minute max.

The important lady started the timer and off we went. I was doubtful.

But, woah. Behold. I was tipping the scales at 53 words per minute! Phew. I was running on pure adrenalin, though. I'll probably never manage to replicate that effort.

So I think I got the job.