Don't know if my torch will be doused or not after yesterday's interview. I rose to all the challenges, I think, and I didn't throw up on anybody or break into a Tourettes-rant, so I consider it a raving success. Oh. And I looked adorable (in case you're wondering - which you're not, because you knew I would look adorable, at the very least). So lots of things workin' for me.
Anyway, all five interviewers were encouraging and affable - no trick questions. (Or maybe there were trick questions, and I just didn't pick up on 'em. Hm.) I was all set to tell them what kind of tree I thought I was or justify my favorite circus animal, but no, those things didn't come up. I'll save my answers for another time, cuz they wuz good 'uns.
The night before the interview, friend Jay took me through a yuk-yukable interview process, and we came up with the most outrageous answers. Lots of food-spewing hilarity in that little French restaurant, I'll tell you. Por example: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" "On the back of a Harley, hair red and piled high, one hand hanging on to my fat geriatric hippy boyfriend and the other holding up my tube-top." I think they'd've loved that answer, personally. But - sob! - no one asked me where I expected to be in five years.
I was asked what I thought the biggest challenge to living in New York City would be, and I answered "staying out of the theatres." OK, that and affordable housing. (At least I didn't say "staying out of crack-houses and off hooker-corners." Give me some credit.)
But seriously. I think I did well, but you never know. The plan is to cull through the interviewees and call a couple back in for the ultimate reference check-o-meter and drug test-o-rama. Woo-hoo!
I do appreciate all the well-wishes and luck-to-yers that came my way before facing the firing squad. Thank you all. Stay tuned.