This kinda long but you ll enjoy it, lol!: Ivy League Interview One look at the skeletal architecture and I knew I did not belong. It looked like a storage shed hidden by the elegance of the high rise office building located at the forefront. Its aged walls carried battle scars from numerous years of warring against the weather. The rusted outdoor lockers looked like the hand me downs of prisons past. Its tall chain linked fence was covered with green weather beaten stripes of what used to be plastic. They tried adding a touch of elegance and class by the privacy gate but it reminded me of the many juvenile detentions strewn across the state. Its large blue and white sign that boasted “Ivy Blah Blah” was painfully nailed to the gate like a thief on the cross. The ad posting boasted of its technological advancements and educational goals but what I saw bleeding from its furnishings was the weeping of a company just barely keeping its head above water. No grand front entrance invited me to enter into the sanctuary of knowledge; just a seventies style steel door beckoned me to peer into its dark corridors. I hoped in my heart that its visual beauty will become clear by a renovated suite located behind those doors but what greeted me was the same helpless front to an over bragging dream. The office was tiny like a hobbit’s chamber and the workers less than appealing. They asked me to excuse their attire of faded tees and slacks because they were “relocating” but my heart screamed, “Please tell me not into this place!” With a stiff smile I replied, “That’s okay, I understand”, while my mind picked apart the tattered reception desk and worn office chair. The application was a stapled combination of Xerox ink fading from the off-white parchment of a homemade contract. It was the remnant of a hurried morning; ill-prepared for its visitor. The inquiries lacked the ingenuity of a seasoned league institution and echoed the generic form of an internet free for all process. As the over exhausted questions flew at me, I answered like a professional batter reading the pitcher’s stroke. With the confidence of a winning jockey, I guided my steed across the finishing lines with the remaining questions, and walked out of the interview with the smile of a woman who nailed it. I knew that I was more than qualified for their half baked pretense and will soon hear the confirmation of, “You got the job.” I casually opened my email to routinely detoxify the overstuffed assortment of solicitations. I noticed their response did not take a full 24 hours and got ready to triumphantly fling my hands in the air. “Dear Ms. Blah …blah blah blah…blah blah blah… I admire your passion because it is the same as mine but I am sorry to inform you that we decided to pursue another candidate that best fit the position…” “No!” I cuffed my fists towards the heavens and demanded answers from the God who created them. How dare they reject me from a position that was beneath my qualification! Are they not aware of what I can do for their program and mediocre curriculum? I can resurrect them from the tired appearance of what they call a dream. I wept bitterly and cursed the day I laid eyes on the ad of an institution where I did not want to work. All rights reserved, 2013 copyrighted KKelman
Posted on: Thu, 08 Aug 2013 01:31:45 +0000
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