Wednesday, July 24

Once again I find myself not overly drawn to working real hard. I have about 45 minutes left in my work- day, and I think I’m about done. I’m sore and tired and coming off of a stress-induced craze.
Yesterday, yesterday everything was happy-happy. What could be better? Two job offers, one accepted, a little celebrating ensued. Today I get another call. From a headhunter. He wants to tell me about an opportunity he has for me. The whole thing is laughable, until I tell him, no, thank you, I just accepted a position.
“Oh, can I ask where?”
“Well, Oshkosh B’Gosh, actually.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s interesting. We were working on something there for you, weren’t we? I distinctly remember presenting you to them and they were very interested.”
From this, you need to understand that this means he thinks he’s due some money from OKbG because they’ve offered me a job. A year and a half after he sent them my resume. Three (possibly four?) positions applied-for later. Whatever. Then (and this is when my stress level begins to rise) he tells me he’s going to have to call my hook-up at B’Gosh. NOT COOL. I try my best to stay calm, play the you-gotta-do what you-gotta-do card, but I was ticked. I haven’t heard from this guy since I lost my job at Enzy, and then (remarkably) he calls the day AFTER I get a job? Coincidence – or do I have to start being more private on this-here uber-web? It makes you wonder….
After I get off the phone, I begin to panic. I call my hook-up. Busy. And I’m supposed to chat with him during the quickly decreasing minutes of my lunch hour about HR type stuff.
Ok… pacing…pacing….smoking….pacing. You get the idea. I leave him a message (sounding as freaked out as I felt), got to work, and e-mailed him. The gist: PLEASE don’t NOT hire me because this headhunter guy whom I’ve never even met face-to-face is a dildo.
He (thankfully) calls me back (on my cell, since I don’t (and won’t) have a real phone at my desk) and basically talks me down from the ledge. Headhunter guy doesn’t have a leg to stand on, and even if he did, it’s our problem (meaning B’Gosh), not yours (meaning mine). Ahh….and the oxygen begins to return to my lungs. They still have nothin’ but love for old V. *shwew*
All that said, the day is over. Only 7 more days at 4imprint, and then I'll be famous.
Oh, and yes, Plinko, I do still need that font.

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