From Joke to Job.
I still have the text.
From January 7: "Happy New Year! We are due for -30 wind chills tonight. Any chance you are hiring an assistant?...Save me."
The unexpected response: "I'm actually hiring an instructional designer...Seriously."
Cue a "David After Dentist" style "Is this real life?"
What ensued was a six week, seven-round interview process I'll sum up with long story short, I got the job. In the time since then, I've lost sleep, watched my bank account dip precariously low, made a trip to my new home, slept well, shoveled snow, seen what it looks like to have money in my bank account, and asked a lot of questions about scorpions. Typically, the scorpion questions start with: "On a scale of 1 to tragic consequences..." I found an apartment, a Whole Foods, and experienced the odd sensation of passing road signs that say "Los Angeles." Can I add that I struggled to wrap my mind around the fact that the posted speed limit in some areas is 75mph? I tested the acceleration of my rented Prius on an 8-lane desert highway, consumed authentic Mexican food, and already had my first successful Southwest babysitting gig.
I feel like I'm ready to take on anything. And then I remember I have to pack. Shoot. My closet is not exactly stocked to support a desert-dwelling lifestyle. Everything is a potential scorpion love nest (especially those dang boots.) Given my nearly translucent complexion, I'm not entirely confident that I am genetically predisposed for 364.5 days of sunny. But I daresay I'm willing to try. And I must add that no humidity = excellent hair days. Heaven knows I love a good 80s dance party, but I am not so much a fan of the humidity-induced 80s dance party hair. Bring on the sunshine and a amazing hair days!
From January 7: "Happy New Year! We are due for -30 wind chills tonight. Any chance you are hiring an assistant?...Save me."
The unexpected response: "I'm actually hiring an instructional designer...Seriously."
Cue a "David After Dentist" style "Is this real life?"
What ensued was a six week, seven-round interview process I'll sum up with long story short, I got the job. In the time since then, I've lost sleep, watched my bank account dip precariously low, made a trip to my new home, slept well, shoveled snow, seen what it looks like to have money in my bank account, and asked a lot of questions about scorpions. Typically, the scorpion questions start with: "On a scale of 1 to tragic consequences..." I found an apartment, a Whole Foods, and experienced the odd sensation of passing road signs that say "Los Angeles." Can I add that I struggled to wrap my mind around the fact that the posted speed limit in some areas is 75mph? I tested the acceleration of my rented Prius on an 8-lane desert highway, consumed authentic Mexican food, and already had my first successful Southwest babysitting gig.
I feel like I'm ready to take on anything. And then I remember I have to pack. Shoot. My closet is not exactly stocked to support a desert-dwelling lifestyle. Everything is a potential scorpion love nest (especially those dang boots.) Given my nearly translucent complexion, I'm not entirely confident that I am genetically predisposed for 364.5 days of sunny. But I daresay I'm willing to try. And I must add that no humidity = excellent hair days. Heaven knows I love a good 80s dance party, but I am not so much a fan of the humidity-induced 80s dance party hair. Bring on the sunshine and a amazing hair days!
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