I go from this trendy Kitsilano boutique to interviewing at some cushy office downtown. It's two in the afternoon and the sidewalks are crawling with tourists and smart looking people in business suits. I'm bridging the gap between these disparate groups since I'm headed for a corporate high-rise, but the scenery is still new enough for me to maintain a slightly lost, slack-jawed stare. I mean, this is a REAL city.
I find the office of this mining company so easily that I decide I either must really belong in Vancouver, or google street view is a new god. A bleach blonde woman greets me at the plate glass doors to this office on the 22nd floor, and then ushers me into an empty boardroom before excusing herself. People keep walking past the window of this meeting room looking like they're going to a dinner party (suit? tux? what's the difference, really?) and I can't help but find it ironic that these are people who control the bowels of the Earth. They look like they've never encountered nature, and that they're likely to cringe if they ever do. Not that I'm a child of nature or anything, but I probably stick out like a sore thumb in this environment with my woolen dress and hush puppy heels. Strangely enough, it is sort of a comfort to know that there is at least a set protocol for this kind of place. I like to think that I'm not a corporate whore, but it's easy enough to fake it. The air is so full of a sense of importance, all you need to do is take a deep breath and then exhale the bullshit all over them. Yes, it feels about as disgusting as it sounds.
I pretend to read one of the magazine articles framed on the wall while I imagine with horror that this massive boardroom could fill up with executives at any moment. The position is for an office assistant, so this isn't a completely irrational fear, since they probably want everyone to approve of the new assistant. To clear my head I flop back into a fancy chair at the over-sized table and try to remember if I've ever even been in a boardroom before. I vaguely remember being about 13 and roaming around at the office my dad used to work in. When we came across the boardroom he made a joke about it being a "bored" room.
I smirk to myself just in time for bleach blonde woman to enter with only one suit-clad executive in tow. They both turned out to be pretty normal (bad dye job and well-tailored suit aside), and the interview made me feel pretty good. I walked around downtown afterward with the stride of a top executive who owns the city- but so far no call back. I guess I only succeeded in fooling myself that I could fit in at that sort of place.
Well, damn.
I find the office of this mining company so easily that I decide I either must really belong in Vancouver, or google street view is a new god. A bleach blonde woman greets me at the plate glass doors to this office on the 22nd floor, and then ushers me into an empty boardroom before excusing herself. People keep walking past the window of this meeting room looking like they're going to a dinner party (suit? tux? what's the difference, really?) and I can't help but find it ironic that these are people who control the bowels of the Earth. They look like they've never encountered nature, and that they're likely to cringe if they ever do. Not that I'm a child of nature or anything, but I probably stick out like a sore thumb in this environment with my woolen dress and hush puppy heels. Strangely enough, it is sort of a comfort to know that there is at least a set protocol for this kind of place. I like to think that I'm not a corporate whore, but it's easy enough to fake it. The air is so full of a sense of importance, all you need to do is take a deep breath and then exhale the bullshit all over them. Yes, it feels about as disgusting as it sounds.
I pretend to read one of the magazine articles framed on the wall while I imagine with horror that this massive boardroom could fill up with executives at any moment. The position is for an office assistant, so this isn't a completely irrational fear, since they probably want everyone to approve of the new assistant. To clear my head I flop back into a fancy chair at the over-sized table and try to remember if I've ever even been in a boardroom before. I vaguely remember being about 13 and roaming around at the office my dad used to work in. When we came across the boardroom he made a joke about it being a "bored" room.
I smirk to myself just in time for bleach blonde woman to enter with only one suit-clad executive in tow. They both turned out to be pretty normal (bad dye job and well-tailored suit aside), and the interview made me feel pretty good. I walked around downtown afterward with the stride of a top executive who owns the city- but so far no call back. I guess I only succeeded in fooling myself that I could fit in at that sort of place.
Well, damn.
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