A Journal of Sorts
Monday, 22 March 1999
Male navigationI heard from the folks at the dream job this morning. It seems that they aren't going to make me an offer after all. One of their technicians has decided to move into the position. I know that makes good business sense from their point of view . . filling the job internally is a lot less expensive as far as training goes and probably, his salary will be less as well.
My feelings are hurt anyway.
At this point, I have two more interviews scheduled. One of them is downtown and I'm not looking forward to that hassle -- the traffic, the expensive parking, the DISTANCE from here. I'm thinking that I might just cancel that one; if I'm dreading the inconvenience of the interview so much, with my luck, I'd get the job and have to deal with it every day. I shouldn't waste my time or theirs with an interview for a job that I really don't want. Of course, for enough money, (I'm sort of a whore when it comes to salary) I might be able to deal with the romance of commuting. In any event, I should decide soon; the interview is Wednesday morning. The other is in Richardson, not exactly convenient, but probably only about half an hour away.
We went to Fort Worth to visit Tom's dad in the hospital. He had a knee replacement done late last week and is recovering nicely. Tom took the camera and took pictures of his dad's bandaged knee. His dad seemed to be tiring quickly, so we left, but not before we got directions to a good hamburger joint from Mom.
She was right. The place was great! Even Jason was raving over how good his burger was. I had a Philly cheese steak and Tom had some sort of chicken thing. They had a juke box and a smoking section. For some reason, while I was on the phone trying to call Teresa, Jason gathered all the ash trays in the place and stacked them neatly on one of the tables. I wondered why everyone was giving me that, "woman, can't you control your children?" look (with offspring like Jason, I've become quite familiar with that look over the years.) until Tom pointed out Jason's handiwork to me.
On the way back, we had an episode of male navigation. Tom was driving back the way we had come - the opposite direction of where we were headed.
C - "Henderson should take us back to the highway."
So we drove back to 8th St. and made our turn at the sure-fire place to be able to get on the east bound interstate. When we reached I-30, the entire area was under construction and the road that might have been a service road to the east bound lanes was simply not there. We drove across the bridge to the west bound side.
T - "Now what do I do?"
Jason - "I don't get it. What's so funny?"
|Before Index After|