Interview Review

I had an interview yesterday for a job I think I'll be really great for. It's been a while since I had an in-person 'view, having a number of phoners and chit-chats in the past year. And the past year has been "interesting" in that "hey, that's an interesting choice of fishnet shorts, sir." Plus, the economy in California appears to be run entirely by mismanaged healthcare conglomerates and DirecTV.

So, from my interview yesterday there were a few areas I think I could have better-represented myself. In the event that the teammembers I talked with are reading my blog - yes, now and then a potential employer will check in on candidates to make sure they aren't leading their meat-alternative lifestyle in an overly-aggressive manner - HERE IS WHAT I MEANT TO TELL YOU when we spoke of these issues.

1) DEADLINES! You asked what I would do if a number of Exec's came to me with simultaneous requests and delivery times. What I really should have highlighted was that I would inquire among the team for bandwidth, as to who could help me out so I can properly deliver on the ask. And make sure I share credit across the board. I don't know why I said "Do a spit-take and flip the bird." That's ridiculous, and the wrong time to go for a laugh. The next day I would surely reward my teammates with cookies.

2) TIME ON THE JOB! I do feel I answered truthfully to the portion of why I hadn't been in a particular job for too long in the past 4 years. Working On-Contract in the Northwest is pretty common, and those contracts with some large software companies help ensure the employed aren't taken advantage of, nor get any real momentum nor continuity. Phew! And moving to (and back from) California is an experience I wouldn't trade for the world. But I also didn't really touch on the fact that I and my family are intent on remaining in the area for quite some time. I am attached to this area, want to raise a family here, have some goals about involvement in the community. Most importantly, my dreams are dead now, so that'll really be the compost to feed the roots taking hold here... yep.

3) PUBLIC KITCHEN USE! I'm no fan of any common area that allows a person to microwave any sort of fish meal. It's wrong. To keep that from happening, all of my meals will be eaten cold, at my desk, in under 12 minutes. AND I BRING IN COOKIES THAT THE TEAM GETS FIRST CRACK AT, before releasing broken ones to the vultures in the kitchen area. Real cookies. Chocolate-laden. None of that Raisin-chunk, store-bought Horse-S people try and pass off as a "friendship offering."

Okay, so hopefully they got all that. I'm a good hire, a good guy, and not involved in any Fantasy Sports this year. Bigger fish to scale. Let's do this, because I have the skills, and a calendar with nothing on it until Memorial Day.

COOKIES.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

What Happened In Vegas Stayed In My Brain

Let’s talk Las Vegas, Comedy, and what ten days in Sin City will do to a man on a limited budget.

Recently I reached another comedy career milestone by performing for over 50 drunk trashbags from a drywalling company from Riverside, CA. Their behavior, for the normal standards of “indoors,” was nothing short of “exemplary,” as defined by Webster’s “Dictionary For Everyday Spousal Abuse.” Many of them should be sterilized by my “Animal Beer Eugenics” plan, which will go into effect secretly within the next 6 months. Frankly, a fiery crash consuming their drug addled corpses, leaving behind only their armband tattoos and some serious handlebar mustaches, may be too good of a death for them. I won’t mention the name of the company because I wouldn’t want to offend them. They may yet turn their life around. Or I may end up at a drywall job, sober, and question their ability to float a seam properly… AND QUESTION THEIR SEXUALITY.

Ten days in Las Vegas is about 7 days past my max tolerance. After 72 hours, my tolerance of humanity waned considerably, somewhere between “Earthquake” and “Idi Amin.” Performing was fantastic. Over the 20 shows, I performed about 300minutes of comedy. That’s about 5 hours. That’s bootcamp, folks. I got WAAAAAAAY better, broke that muscle down a lot, let myself get really loose on-stage, and came out a different, hopefully better, comic and person. BUT… there are 23.5 hours of the day that I was not performing. Had I a drug habit (expensive and/or illegal, that is), alcoholism (full-blown, not just the dabbling), or majorly-consuming vice of some sort, things may have been different. For example, I would have had more fun during the day. It turns out I DO have a serious gambling problem: I blew all my luck. One day I went 3-for-11 on elevators, hitting UP and getting a DOWN for the next lift. Also, Giuseppe “The Dream Crusher” Santini, roll another triple-run of 00 and I’ll come across the chips on ya, 73 years old or not. Thanks for the $50 vodka-soda, fart-saver.

It’s important to get a routine going. Not easy when I was there, because everything costs money. The only freebs were found at the employee cafeteria. Imagine a buffet, with drab walls, low-ceilings, and CNN blaring on one TV, Mexican news or Soap Operas blaring on the other, and being glared at for not having a gold nametag on. Having fun yet? But soldiered forth. Get up, take a walk, check e-mail, work out, nap, write, read, nap, shower, SHOWTIME!, hang out, SHOWTIME!, drink, in bed by 2a.m. But most of that time isn’t spent with friends, so please don’t imply that I was on a vacation. My mind went “The Shining” late Friday afternoon. A ½-Xanax and Bud Light later, all was a bit better.

In those ten days, I missed my wife very much. I realize how much we depend on each other for daily emotional support and physical energy. To know that she was at home, alone, with those guys from that Under Armour ad, just really saddened me. I hope she had fun. But I know that I changed as a person, man, and comedian. Hopefully the changes were beneficial to my marriage and career and performance. One thing is for sure, I have very little patience right now. I have patience to tolerate unchangeable circumstances, but if somebody asks me a question just for the sake of small talk, I feel like ignoring them, or asking them why they want to know. Not trying to be “better” than anybody, mind you. Just, you know, we have a black president and things are changing and nobody cares which hospital your third grandson was born in so stop holding the conversation up while you search your softly-edged memory for a name THAT IS IMMATERIAL TO THE STORY of the first time you slept with a Thai woman in front of your sleeping wife. With a dumbshit like you for a grandpa, he’s probably on his way to a career in drywalling anyway, the fag.

My deepest thanks go out to TJ Markwalter, Tom Rhodes, Carl Strong, John Bizarre, Robert Duchaine, and the entire staff at The Comedy Stop @ The Trop. Fantastic time, y'all. I wish you only the best.

If anybody knows how to get my grandma to stop talking and it doesn't involve a pillow, pills, elbow (Flying or otherwise), let me know. How does this woman know what EVERYBODY is doing wrong on the news?
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Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad