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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
| THE FAJITA INTERVIEW |
| 09.23.04 (6:55 am) [edit] |
|
" Come on in and have a seat, Ms. Cloud. To be honest I found your resume a bit ambiguous. However, since you are a personal friend of Mrs. Gardner I felt that I should at least meet with you. How is it that you are acquainted with Mrs. Gardner?" "Mrs. Gardner ran over my dog back in 1992. She was inconsolable, poor thing. Since that time she never fails to send one of your company’s Christmas cards and a 16- month calendar. It was all rather tragic I’m afraid. I very much enjoyed the Hand Knit Sweaters of Norway calendar by the way." "So you don’t really know Mrs. Gardner… is that accurate?" "Well I suppose it’s accurate… but you know, like I said, she hit my dog." "Ms. Cloud, I’m not sure that we have anything to talk about but go ahead and tell me what qualifications you possess that might persuade me to hire you as Technical Services Director here at Quantum." Wow, I certainly didn’t see that one coming. Persuade him? What kind of lame interview tactic is that? "Well, Mr. Stewart, I understand that you ship your computers to Mexico, is that correct?" "Yes, we do. Have you had any cross cultural experience, Ms. Cloud?" "No, not really. I’m from the East Side of Toledo…is that helpful?" "I’m afraid not. Perhaps you are bilingual"? "No, don’t speak a word of Spanish. Actually, what I was getting at is that I make really great fajitas. It’s all about the marinade—don’t you agree? What are your feelings about fajitas Mr. Stewart…are you a beef fajita person or do you prefer chicken?" What is that look? Oh, terrific, he’s probably a vegetarian. Quick, make it better. "If you give me your email address I could send you the recipe…or not. I apologize, Mr. Stewart…you may not even like fajitas. Perhaps you are against the brutal and unnecessary slaughter of animals whose only crime is that they taste good grilled to golden brown perfection while dressed in a zesty cilantro-lime marinade and slathered with sour cream…I can respect that." Warning Will Robinson. You are approaching a black hole. Change course quickly or surely you are doomed. "Well, Mr. Stewart, it’s really very simple. I own a computer… you manufacture computers… I need a job and you need a Director of Technical Services. I think it’s a really good fit, don’t you?" Please, not the look again. Really, what is this guy’s problem? I made absolutely no mention of domesticated animals. It’s a cold, rough, nasty world out there… and I am Rebecca of Sunny Brook farm wandering around barefoot and without a warm winter coat. I’m doomed. Did I live, learn, gather, or glean anything in my 18 years at home that will prepare me to take the world by storm at 43? Am I qualified for anything other than motherhood and domesticity? While I was tying up bows and shoes, prom dresses and loose ends… the world sped up and sped by. Soon the house will be empty and while I have acquired wisdom, life experience, gray hair and wrinkles; at times I am twenty again looking into the mirror and asking life’s most perplexing question-- what do I want to be when I grow up. "Do you have any skills… other than fajitas, Ms. Cloud; because while I certainly appreciate a good fajita, we get very few technical questions on the matter… even from Mexico". "I am not a woman of means, Mr. Stewart, but I am a woman of skills. For instance, I can tell with unparalleled precision how high a fever is just by touching my lips to someone’s forehead. I can make 33 individual cups of dirt pudding complete with gummy worm and deliver it unharmed to a classroom six miles away. I can retrieve beads, beans, marbles, gumballs, peanuts pencils and pennies from the nostrils of a two-year-old and a bologna sandwich from the inside of a VCR without harming either one. I can take a page of garbled letters and show a small child how to turn them into beautiful stories. I can sprinkle magic dream powder on a pillow and keep away bad dreams. I made every Halloween costume by hand from 1987-1998-- times two. In December, 1999 I cooked an entire Christmas Eve dinner with items purchased from 7-11." Let me see… I have let an eight-year-old throw up into my cupped hands to save the carpet and worked through a wide array of bowel issues. I am able to sit patiently and without the aid of barbituates for long periods of time watching soccer games, school plays, Disney movies, awards ceremonies and Barney. Actually, I lied. I can’t sit through Barney…maybe Barney is dead by now. Let’s just hope it happens before I have grandchildren. I can organize, file and type. I am able to clean what is dirty and fix what is broken. I can carry furniture, firewood and groceries but I cannot carry a tune. I can drive long distances alone, check my fluid levels and read a map. I hate to stop for directions but I will drive miles out of my way for an Irish Creme latte. I have explained the birds and the bees, the origin of the universe, heaven and hell, love and hate, life and death, and the nature of God. I have tried to explain Brittney Spears, but I just can’t. I have seen every emotion known to man displayed in the faces of my children. I have witnessed their hearts full and their hearts broken and at one time or another I have been the cause of both and must live with the consequences. I have celebrated Christmas in a house glittering with ornaments, trees, food, presents and people and I have celebrated Christmas in a hospital room with my child who has just learned that she has cancer. I don’t know that the sum of these things qualifies me for anything. For 17 years I raised my children. I am a mom; after that everything else is secondary. For the past two years I have been trying to catch up… but to what end? I had to get past the lie that the value of my existence is based on the manner in which I make a living. A career may determine the style in which I live but it is not the value of my life. I have come to a place where my needs are simple. The two most important things in my life are spending time with the people that I love and my ability to be spontaneous. I imagine that the two are related. Life changes-- sometimes in a heartbeat. You can roll with it or get paralyzed by it. The less that you have holding you down the farther you can roll and the greater your ability to be content with whatever comes along. Grabbing hold of life and each other is difficult when your hands are full of things. "You are really looking pretty pale, Mr. Stewart, may I suggest putting your head between your legs and singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic…I saw it on Oprah. I don’t really like Oprah but I thought it to be useful information. This has really been quite informative and you are a peach but my nephew and I are building a volcano out of Skittles tonight so I need to run. I’m pretty sure that we won’t be bumping into each other at board meetings but feel free to call if you ever need a really good fajita recipe…" Darkness replaces daylight and I am tired. Another day has gone by and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I guess that it really doesn’t matter. I realize that I don’t need to set the world on fire at 43… I just need to keep a flame burning inside of myself so I can see where I’m going next. |
posted by: JAS (reply)
post date: 09.23.04 (6:20 am)
WOW! You are a funny ball of fire.
posted by: doeeyed (reply)
post date: 09.13.06 (1:52 pm)
I know this is an old entry, but I am just in awe!!
I can't stop reading.
Thanks :-)
posted by: lorischuster (reply)
post date: 09.13.06 (4:26 pm)
Thank you doe...you made my night. :) this is one of my favorites.
Grace, beauty, humor, strength.
Alison Haley Cloud
Nov. 16, 1987-March 1, 2005
