***

So, why do I have two or three hours to kill, on a Sunday morning? I always work Sundays at the bookstore. Well, except for today.

Dammit, Patti, quit rearranging the schedule on me! In my brain, I work every single Sunday. I have accepted this, and I have learned to work the rest of my life around it. Then, out of nowhere, I have a day off when I'm not expecting it, and it confuses and frightens me. Also, I feel kind of dumb when the person actually scheduled shows up. "Oh, don't mind me. I don't know how to read, is all. I'll be going now..."

It's particularly annoying, because yesterday, I worked a full restaurant shift, and then drove to Madison for a job interview. It went fairly well, I think, but maybe it would have gone better if my brain wasn't completely fried from seven hours of running.

Not only was it Graduation Weekend, meaning we were busy pretty much nonstop, but the restaurant went to a new menu this week.

New prices for absolutely everything, and a new design, meaning that the new prices that ALL have to be looked up every single time are never where you think they might be. This happens about once a year, and it's always annoying. Just when I finally get to the point where I know 3/4 of the prices, and I at least know exactly where to find the few things I don't know, Nick changes it all.

It's especially grim this time around, because everything ends in NINE. If you've been in the restaurant when I'm working, you know that (if it's been about six months since the menu changed,) I add tickets in my head. Just write down the prices from memory, add it up, figure the tax, and do the next one. Every single incarnation of the menu so far, the prices all ended in five or zero, so once I got the memorization step under control, adding was no problem. But, apparently, Nick thought that was too easy, so now everything ends in NINE. Logically, it shouldn't really make the math that much harder, but it does.

So, I did that all day, ran home, showered, jumped in the car, and drove to Madison. I actually got to Madison a half hour early, then spent 20 minutes cursing YahooMaps. Yahoo promised me that 151 would connect to Regent Street! WHY CAN'T I FIND REGENT STREET? I stopped at a random pizza place and got better directions,and made it to the interview with about five minutes to spare. I'm glad I was so paranoid about the driving time. You never know when being irrational will come in handy.

One of the first questions the guy asked me was about the line on my resume about my "personal website." Jared had pointed out that it was stupid to just ignore this concrete proof of my technological competence, so I put it in. Then, Guy asked, and I panicked, remembering all the stories I tell about sex, drugs and rocknroll. These are not things prospective employers need to hear about.

"Well, it's an online diary, actually. It's nothing special, really, mostly just a way for friends I don't see very often to find out what's going on in my life. I've had it about four years, and I designed it myself."

(Don't ask me for the URL. Please god, please please please don't let him ask for the URL.)

"Oh, like a blog, you mean? That's cool. You know, I think it's amazing, all the different uses people have found for the internet."

(YES! A blog. Nothing at all freaklike about a blog, no sir. Millions of people have them.)

"Oh, I agree. There's new stuff being done with the internet every day, and it's so exciting to see, and to be a part of it."

(WHEW More small talk about how groovy the internet is, followed by a standard interview.) If I end up getting this job, I'll owe it all to Diaryland. And of course to Jared, for reminding me to put it in the resume.

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