PlazaJen: Passion Knit

On the drive home from KnitNight, I was chatting with my friend Beth & was reminded of a job I had NO interest in taking, based simply on the interview and the environment.

It should have been a sign that the flight attendant came out and asked me if I planned to catch my flight (good god, can I PROVE to you people any more that it's an illness, this lateness?)..... I can be THAT UNAWARE sometimes, I'd wandered off to get a coffee & sat back down just enjoying my Starbucks and the entire fucking plane had boarded and I HAD NO CLUE.

And really, my wonker radar had been triggered already by the personal profile on the owner of the agency; the shop was media-only, and they had a folder they sent me, and the whole thing was allllll about the owner. And one whole section in the folder discussed how she'd been overweight and how she'd overcome it and I am not kidding, they used this for new business and prospective employees, and so I already had the hairy eyeball goin' on as I headed off to this place.

But there were two things that clinched it for me. The first: she liked to rescue cats, and so they had three stray cats that lived at the agency, and being blunt like I am, I said, so what about allergies and the litter box? And they said that allergies weren't a problem (gee, do prospective clients get weeded out this way, too?) and that the staff rotated litter box responsibilities. Ohkaayyyy. And then they had all kinds of Bible verses and catchy God sayings (printed out on copy paper) taped up randomly, like, "This day has been brought to you by GOD." "Let Go and Let God." and then some Scripture quotes. (I'm not particularly religious, but I believe it should be like underwear - wear it or don't, but you shouldn't have to see anybody's at work. Plus, this is ADVERTISING, people. We sell sex, booze, smokes and dreams.) Most of my one-on-one interview with the owner was spent with her championing her weight loss and me feeling like I would be put on a diet if I worked there. Awesome! It'd be just like living with my mother again, but now with cats and Jesus. Because nothing makes a job look more appealling if you think everyone's going to count your calories, in between facing your Lord and Maker at every step around the office, while popping Claritin every two hours to combat cat dander.

And suddenly my alcoholic, weepy, free-cell playin', dancin'-as-fast-as-she-can-but-never-working boss didn't look too bad. I did not miss my flight home.