Basically barely slept last night in between finally going to bed late and getting woken up a little too early by my dad to move the car at 5 am. I had a nightmare involving speeding and tickets on my way to the interview. Probably not a good sign…
Finally got out of bed to my phone alarm, where I wrote out things I should have on hand before I take off for the interview. No lie, between waking up and finally walking out of the interview, I think I was continuously producing adrenaline. Probably not healthy. But very useful, since otherwise I might’ve just slid down a wall and hyperventilated.
Like I said, I was a little nervous.
So I packed my folder with my resumes into my purse, made sure my cleavage was Chuch-appropriate, prayed the frizzies in my hair would behave themselves, and religiously consulted my Mapquest printout because, in spite of living in this city for basically my entire life, I still don’t know where the hell I am about 70% of the time. It sucks having the directional sense of a compass that’s been sat on by an elephant. And not a cute elephant, like Dumbo; the kinds you see on the Discovery Channel that basically live in mud and their own filth.
…where was I?
Oh yeah. I made it to the hospital (which in itself was a fantastic miracle) in one piece (yet another miracle!). Mommy-dearest voiced her concern for my demure-length skirt and pantyhose (which, by the way, are awesome when you just don’t feel like shaving) but I’m sure that the nice frigid air helped freeze whatever sweat I might have been producing. Like I said, adrenaline is useful.
I smiled for the nice old man who I hoped wasn’t staring at what little cleavage I had, and rolled on my little security badge with a severely dark and unrecognizable photograph of myself. I admitted that I was there for an interview and he told me where to go and wished me luck with a perfectly non-perverted, slightly granpappy-ish smile.
For some reason, that’s when I remembered that it’s important to breathe. Interviewers like breathing people. Or so I’ve heard.
I rolled into the ER department well before my appointment. My original plan was to find out where the interview was being held and then spend the rest of the time finding a vending machine with chocolate to calm my nerves then enter a big restroom booth and practice smiling without looking like I’m about to burst into tears. Unfortunately, they just had me sit in the ER for an extended period of time since I guess this woman didn’t have an office I could wait out of. As a result, I got to share the same space with cute babies and stumbling toddlers with runny nose along with their exhausted-looking parents.
Note to self: Children are stressful. Make a conscious effort to avoid birthing them while even the thought of interviews make me want to curl into a little ball in the corner.
The majority of the time can be fairly well-explained with the following text message conversation between me and Nicky*, my soul mate from a million lifetimes who I’d happily marry if our state would permit same-sex marriage.
Me
I have a run in my stockings :(
Nicky
:( Is it noticeable?
Me
Not unless you get inappropriate with my legs lol
Nicky
Lol good then it shouldn’t be a problem J did you find your way to where you’re supposed to be
Me
Yeah. And now I’m sitting next to a guy who’s likely interviewing for the same position
Nicky
Give him a competitive yet friendly glare lol
Me
I think I did when we first made eye contact. I think I looked angrily constipated
Nicky
Hahaha! Well I can just imagine him trying to figure our what the look meant. Is there pamphlets or lil informational things about the hospital lying around
Me
No. Just lots of toddlers. And the Disney channel. I feel like I should be drinking
OMG CUTE BABIES!
Nicky
Lol toddlers make you want to drink but babies are ok
Me
Yes. Because babies have no idea why they’re smiling and toddlers giggle because they know they spilled juice on you.
While this was going on, I was trying to avoid meeting the eyes of my would-be “competitor.” I wasn’t sure if eye-contact was supposed to be accompanied with a nice smile or snarky smirk, so instead I glared at the runs in my stockings in an effort to will them from existence. It didn’t work. So I pulled out my mini-rosary instead.
The other candidate went in ahead of me, and within half an hour (and 3 Our Father’s and 37 Hail Mary’s later) he came back out and shot me a “Good luck” with a nice smile that made me feel pretty bad for not being outwardly friendly earlier. I got led in by two nice ladies whose names I completely forgot within two seconds since the only thing in my brain was “DON’T TRIP DON’T TRIP FUCK I HOPE THEY DON’T SEE MY CLEAVAGE/PANTYLINE/RUNS IN MY STOCKING OMG WHY AM I NOT BREATHING??”
Somewhere between all this, I think I managed to smile and nod when I took a seat across from the two women, which I hadn’t anticipated. Considering that the thought of one interviewer gave me a traffic nightmare, seeing two of them across the table made me go into a 5-second panic attack. I hope my face didn’t show it…
The interview went off well enough. Starting with them asking for my resume (50 points to the girl with multiple copies, yeeeeeeah boy~). They asked me things like why did I want to work in their hospital (“Previous experiences with the staff when family/friends were admitted showed me really caring staff that I’d want to be a part of”), what nursing meant to me (I rehashed my own hospital experiences and growing up in my cult of Filipino women who ran their households and cultured careers), how I would handle conflicts with doctors (“I would never give any medication that a child was allergic to and immediately follow-up with both the pharmacist and doctor. If persisted even in the face of their medical history and verbal report of the allergy, I would still refuse as that risk is not worth endangering the child”), how I would deal with coworkers (“I’d insist on hearing their reasoning for following a procedure in a way different from mine. I feel it’s important to build comraderie with your unit since they are the ones who you’ll need to support and rely on in the long run”), how I felt about continued education (“I think it’s necessary. In a field like medicine it’s important to repeatedly update yourself on new techniques and information and find ways to apply that to your unit in order to give up-to-date care”), team nursing (“I think it’s wonderful since it allows you to delegate tasks in such a way that allows you to provide care for your patient and still get your work done before you have to report off”), etc.
So I’m kinda paraphrasing my replies, but those were the gist of my interview (with a little shakiness and rambling and only one massive brain fart…but that was when I was asking them the questions). Afterwards, they gave me a tour, which was reassuring since there’s kind of no point in showing me around if I’m not going to be working there, right? Right?
Fuck I hope so.
Along the way, I asked a lot of questions about their scheduling, their staff, and their own experience with the hospital and why they chose to stay there for so long while commending their system for incoming patients. By the end of the tour, I was feeling pretty good about myself and the interview as a whole. I thanked the women, they told me that I’d be hearing from them in a week if anything, and made my exit. On my way out, I saw a girl sitting where I sat half an hour earlier, staring at what was likely her resume in her lap. I smiled and wished her luck.
And so ends my first ever interview.
*name changed even though she’s totally my wife
