Thursday, 18 October 2007

I'm an Idiot; I'm Surrounded By Idiots

I had an interview today at 11am with one of Calgary's larger design firms (i.e. works for oil companies). This triggered a string of idiotic mistakes.

1. Last night, I realised that I had no printed portfolio. Looked at old portfolio. Scratched chin. Walked around. Scratched chin again. Realised must shave chin; interview imminent. Considered: might as well wash my hair too. Do both. Midnight passes. Organise desktop. Update software. Try to scratch chin, but it's not the same. Do the damn portfolio.
2. Wandered around in the morning, trying to find a print shop to print my portfolio. Walk around the same block twice.
3. Find print shop; discover document is in A4 format, and not Letter size, as used In The Real World.
4. Rush back to laptop. It's 9.30am. Change all pages to Letter format. Move everything around. Save. Export. Double-check.
5. Back to print shop. Get discount because girl feels sorry for me, and probably because I remind her of a 'Four Weddings'-era Hugh Grant.
6. Get a few blocks before I realise I've left my debit card on the counter. Return, grimace, exit. All class, and yet no class.
7. Get near where I'm going before I realise I didn't write down the address of where I'm going. I had the gist of the address. Area unyeilding to my general sense of gist.
8. Trace a path resembling, from above, a drunken toddler's attempt at an '&' symbol (toddler drunk on power, heard pen mightier than sword).
9. Notice huge sign bearing name of company on major street corner.
10. Wander around lobby, peering at building listing. Ask security guy where '100 Lower' is. He indicates huge sign bearing name of company by stairs going Lower.
11. Wait in lobby, as am half-hour early.

French Canadians do not breathe; they gasp.
French Canadians initiate phone calls while at their toilette, even really quite odiferous ones.
French Canadians are never without facial hair; what cannot be grown on the central plateau is encouraged to spread from the sides.
French Canadians sniff. Those who do not sniff, snort. Those who do not sniff or snort, snuffle. When not sniffling, snorting, or snuffling, they speak French Canadian, which sounds very similar to all three, but with more melody and less rhythm.
French Canadians love sports, particularly if it is on TV. They also love music at the same time. They also love talking at the same time.
I do not love French Canadians.

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