Be Careful What You Wish For

Things have been crazy hectic - I finally moved into a permanent place and I'm loving it; although my first night there was spent alternating between laying in front of the toilet and dry heaving/drooling/spitting/burping into the toilet, as I was unexpectedly hit with a horrible bout of either the stomach flu or food poisoning - whatever it was, it pretty much put me out of commission for the entire weekend.

Seriously, can I just take a second to talk about how throwing up is THE ABSOLUTE WORST. When I'm sick to my stomach, my thoughts go to dramatic places. As I was laying on the floor of my new bathroom, all I could think was, "There is absolutely no way I can ever go through child birth." I was honestly thinking about how miserable it must be to be pregnant and nauseus, let alone passing a child through your vagina. It makes me shudder just thinking about it. I don't think I'm cut out for it.

Anyway, ever since my last post, nothing very interesting has happened for me to blog about. Until yesterday, when I went to a job interview that seriously was like something out of a movie. I applied to be an executive assistant at a motorcycle shop that has just opened up, and I knew it was going to be an adventure when the owner, Tony, responded to my email with, "COME TODAT FOR INTERVIEW." Yup, spelled like that and everything. I read the email in a Russian accent cause that just seemed to make sense.

But Tony was far from Russian. Picture a big, bald Italian guy from Jersey, cause that's exactly what he was. Gold chains, gold rings on every finger, thick Jersey accent - the works. He was the epitome of the Italian mob guy.

I sat down across from him and tried to keep a straight face as he fired off questions in what was perhaps the most non-PC, most sexist interview I've ever sat through. It's hard to make his Jersey accent and mannerisms come across through typing it, but try to imagine...

Tony: So, where yuh from? What's yous nationalty?

Me: My grandmother was Lebanese. Most people think I'm Italian or Hispanic.

Tony: Yeeah yeeah, I was gonna say cuz yous got that...uh....(eyes staring blatantly at my chest) uh, darker coloring. So, I gotta be straight with yuh, this is a motorcycle shop, so yuh gotta be comftuble wit swearing and such, I mean, you'll be workin with a buncha guys, so can yuh handle that? Cuz yuh know, I gotta be all careful about yous girls that come in here, yuh know what I'm sayin? If a guy swears, its no big deal, but if a girl swears, yuh know what yuh call it?

Me: Encouragement?

Tony: Hah. Funny. Yous funny. I like that. No, if a girl swears yuh call it $3.99 a minute.

Me: nervous laughter. Well, I've been working in construction for the past 3 1/2 years, so I'm pretty used to that kind of thing.

Tony: Good, good. The otha thing yuh gotta know is that it costs me a hellava lot more money to hire a female, insurance-wise, because of yuh plumbin'.

Me: Blink. Blink.

Tony: I mean, a guy costs me practically NUTHIN to insure, but YOU, I mean, even if yuh got yuh tubes tied, God forbidja get knocked up, and it costs me an extra five hundred bucks a month, yuh know what I'm sayin?

Me: Um, ok.

Tony: So yous got a husband? Kids? Cuz I hate dealin with that crap. I mean, come on, husbands calling fifty times a day, kids hurtin their knees, what am I supposed to do about that? I'm tryin to run a business heyah.

Me: Nope, just me.

Tony: Good, good. So basically you'd be doin all my paperwork and billing, that kinda thing. I just hired this girl to work the clothing counter - sexy little thing, that's what sells clothes, yuh know? I don't care how she gets it done, just sell the clothes, yuh know what I'm sayin?

At that point, Tony noticed that one of his workers, another burly stereotypical Italian guy had just walked in with an armload of bags. And I kid you not about the conversation that took place.

Tony: RONNIE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!

Ronnie: What's up, boss?

Tony: Where tha HELL have yuh been fuh three ow-uhs?

Ronnie: Gettin yuh stuff, boss!

Tony: Really. Cuz I think you've been dickin' around for the past three ow-uhs, wastin my time.

Ronnie: No, boss, I hada go to Best Buy to get yuh stuff, then I hada go to For Every Body - -

Tony: What the hell is For Every Body?

Ronnie: It's a store, boss, yuh told me to get gift baskets and stuff. I gotcha CAYNdles and BEAYskets, whaddaya want from me?

Tony: Fine. Next time if yuh gonna be gone for three ow-uhs, yuh call me, yous understaynd?

Ronnie: Sure, boss. Now are yuh done chewin my ass in front of dis girl?

Yep, I was still just sitting there. Staring straight ahead, pretending not to notice these two huge Italian guys arguing over candles and gift baskets. I took that opportunity to introduce myself to Ronnie and shook his hand.

Ronnie: Hey, how yuh doin?

Tony: Hey get tha hell outta my office! She's MY executive assistant, not YOURS!

Ronnie: Aright, aright, nice ta meetcha.

I'm not even joking.

Tony: Dat guy, geez. He's got this twenty-two year old girl, right, and he told her that he's thirty years old. THIRTY, you believe that?

Me: Does she believe him?

Tony: HE thinks she does! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Aright, so I really needta get a girl in here who can kick these guys asses, yuh know what I'm sayin? Yuh gotta have a thick skin and stick yuh foot up they ass if yuh need to.

Me: I'm very comfortable with that.

Tony: Good, good. Aright, aright, well yous doin good, no ones been in this office as long as you have.

Me: Great.

Seriously the best job interview I've ever been on. All I know now is that if working there is half as entertaining as interviewing there, as Liz Lemon says, I want to go to there.