Interviewed

I'm waiting nervously outside the door to the Space Resource Centre. Typed on a sheet attached to the window is the interview schedule.
Monday October 4
11:45 [Halalcohol]
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Yes, I'm first. To be interviewed for a position I really want. Blankly, I pace around outside the door. A group of girls walk past me and enter the room. I recognize one of them as Jane, the girl who came to our class to ask us for applicants. We had to fill out a questionnaire and hand it in last Thursday. The girls came out promptly, confused as to why no supervisor was present.

Oh, good. It's just these three that will be interviewing me.

"Where are the teachers?" one asks.

"I don't know. If they don't show up, we'll have to do the interviews outside."

"Hey guys, nobody's in the room," says one of them, to someone behind me. "Can we see if we can do the interviews in the library?

I turn around, and to my horror, I see a group of tall, male, looming seniors making their way over.

WTF WTF WTF WTF SHIT. Are they ALL gonna be there? No, right? That's a waste of time… right?

I recognize two of them as volunteers who came on the Pinecrest trip, George and Bob. The other two are foreign to me. I'm too busy goggling at them to hear what they're saying, but eventually we make our way to the library. At first, I think I'm supposed to wait outside, but George beckons me in. We enter a small classroom inside the library called the East York Room. Everyone begins to move the tables around.

SHIT! There are seven of them! They're all going to be staring… and analyzing… and… and…

There's a broken chair in the room, and Bob gets an idea.

"Put the chair over there. He points across from the row of tables where I'm obviously supposed to sit. I realize immediately that this is one of those cliché interviews where the interviewers act all bitchy to try and scare their interviewees into making a fool of themselves or bursting into tears, or whatever.

"What's he doing in here?" Bob's voice cuts over the noise.

All eyes on me in the centre of the ring…

"Tell him to wait outside."

I gesture vaguely at George, who's sitting away from everyone else at a computer. "He told… He…"

Jane walks me out of the room. Great, I've made a wonderful first impression. I stare into the room through the wide windows, watching as everyone takes a seat.
Thirty seconds later, she comes back and opens the door. I attempt to walk confidently, but I probably look more like I have a back brace.

"Can I put my stuff on this table?" I look at Bob as I speak, because I have a very pressing feeling that he's the one who'll do the most talking. He shrugs and gives me an expression of indifference. Just as I expected. I do so anyways, and take my seat on the chair missing a backrest. Sitting straight up, I place my hands on my legs, moving very deliberately and mechanically. The whole time, my eyes are drawn to Bob.

"I used to think that Bob was a jerk, but he's actually really nice! He's really quiet, but if you talk to him, he actually cares." I remember those words from a senior at Pinecrest. I also remember some things I'd rather not.

"Bob went out with Kim… Yeah, they had sex at a party… He got blown by her…There was this other couple in the room, and they were breaking up, and the girl didn't notice them getting it on behind her cause she was crying so hard, and the guy told her to turn around, and she was like, 'OH MY GOD!'"

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I focus back on Bob, who's reading my questionnaire. "I haven't always been interested in writing…" he says in a mocking tone.

FACEPALM

"Right. So, why do you want to be a writer for the TOPS Webteam?"

I regurgitate what I wrote on the sheet. "Love writing… blog… blah blah blah."

I get cut off as other questions come up.

"How many people actually read the blog?" He sounds very skeptical.

"We do." It was a stupid but defiant counter. I quickly add more details. "And other classmates."

"Do you have any experience with Web pages other than with the blog?"

This time, I have nothing to say. "No. Not really."

"Can you use Office?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, can you use Word properly?" Again, mocking me.

There are students who can't use Word?

"Yes."

"Ok, so we will probably need you to come on TOPS night to help set up things for the presentation. Can you make it?" This time, Jane asks the question. And I'm so nervous, I don't even understand what she says, or when TOPS night is.

"Yes. I – I can make it." An automatic response. Well, I couldn't say "no", could I?

"Do you know how to set up projectors and other equipment?"

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh… Maybe if you teach me, then I will? :D No…? :(

"…Well, not projectors specifically, but at my old school I was part of the –" At this point, I forget exactly what the team I was part of was called. I blame the nerves. "Stage… set-up…" (An hour later, I remember it was called the stage crew.)

"Ok. That's fine." Or something like that. I'm still too nervous to comprehend what they're saying. The girl speaks again.

"At TOPS night, since you're a student, people might ask you what TOPS is. What will you tell them?"

I know that I have absolutely no time to think, because a moment's hesitation would be enough to screw me over. To buy time, I start by stating the obvious.

"Well, I would tell them that TOPS is a great program that specializes in math and science, but, you know, it's not just for those completely devoted to math and science." At this point, my mouth catches up to my brain, and I say whatever I'm thinking. Just anything to avoid the awkward pause. "From what I've seen, people have gone on to become lawyers, for example, and because the learning pace is accelerated, it's challenging and great for study skills." Crap, what kind of ending is that? My answer was soooo lame…

Bob looks at the girl and nods expectantly, who replies with a smile. "Alright, so if you could be any fruit, which would you be?"

………………………………………………??????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Come on, hurry up!" Shut up, Bob. Uh………

"Just pick one!" I buy myself more time by repeating her. Banana?
Grapes? I almost ask the most retarded question of whether I can choose to be a bunch of fruits (of grapes, get it? A bunch? :D) before continuing my thoughts. Peach? Apple? Orange? Apple. Strawberry? Blueberry.

"Stop wasting time! Just pick!" Strawberry? Strawberry. Strawberry! Apple! Apple! Apple!

"Ok… If I were a fruit, I'd be a…" Strawberry, strawberry, strawberry, strawberry, STRAWBERRY!

"Mango." The word slips my mouth.

"Mango! Ok, why?"

It's pure BS time. I'm usually good at this stuff. But I guess I'm way too nervous to function.

"Because… mangos are exotic." Holy shit, did I just say what I think I did?

"Oh… Exotic, eh?" Bob smiles evilly. Everyone else laughs.

"Yes… exotic." I've no choice but to continue. "And no, I'm not thinking like that." This gets a laugh out of everyone. Trying not to think about Bob getting a blowjob from the very "exotic" Kim (if you knew her, you'd think she was "exotic" too, the way she dresses), I press on.

"Mangos are also very versatile."

"Oh… Versatile eh?" Everyone laughs again. Shut UP, Bob. Well, at least they're happy…ish.

"No, I'm still not thinking like that." More laughter. Are they laughing at me? I can't tell. Does that make me socially retarded? "And yes, versatile. Mangos can be eaten in a lot of ways. They can be added to sauces, eaten raw, put in salads, used to flavor meat…" Bob makes another shallow connection that I can't remember.

"Alright, thank you for applying," says Jane.

"I like mangos too…" That was the last comment Bob made as I walked out of the room, into the empty library. And that's pretty much the only ray of hope I have.

"I like mangos too…"