I'm a big kid now

One might find it a tad disconcerting, and although I have been graduated from a distinguished University for nigh on four years now, I have never been on a Big Girl interview. That is not to say that I have not been interviewed before. I get interviewed every day by my pesky regulars at the bar who quiz me about boys and my sisters and my aspirations and perspirations and I have been interviewed by employers before, but it's always been at a bar and I also made it a point to wear cut-off shorts and a risque top, that way when they asked me about my assets, I really didn't have to do a whole lot of talking. 

Today was different. I was a veritable basket case. I had no idea what to wear. My closet is full of things to wear to the San Marcos river and to Dirty Bill's, not a job interview. And at the Capitol. 

Of Texas. 

After I pulled myself together, and after having to employ a pair of needle nose pliers to zip down a dress that obviously no longer fit, I embarked. 

I wasn't nervous, surprisingly. Def Leppard on the drive over sure helped, and my interviewer was easy to chat with and a very nice guy. He bought me a cup of coffee which I promptly spilled on my silk shirt, right at the moment I was to meet his superior. This is all standard Brynnan stuff. I fully anticipated this kind of incident. Going into the thing, I had actually imagined myself spilling the coffee on my interviewer, then later maybe tripping over nothing. 

I saw a few bar regulars who caught my eye and quickly glanced away and like any good bartender, I pretended not to know their names, or how they like their cocktail... 

There is one bar reg who it seems that no matter what job I obtain, bar or otherwise, she is there. She has literally walked into every bar that I have ever worked at and said, "Oh, Brianna! I didn't know you work here!" This broad has been calling me Brianna for two years now and I don't know how to correct her. It's too late. And now I find out she is a goddamned lobbyist and works at the goddamned Capitol with me and will be calling me fucking Brianna in front of everyone, all the time. And once people think your name is Brianna, they just keep calling you that like it's your real name. 

Brenna. Brenda. Brenham. Oh you mean like the town Brenham? Sure. Just like that. 

Besides the coffee, I got lost inside the Capitol only three times, had to google "capital" and "capitol" beforehand, and tried to walk through security like I was Lyndon Baines Johnson without being searched. 

And I also have not been offered such small compensation for a job since I was a sophomore in high school organizing years of insurance files for my best friend's dad at Farm Bureau and flipping burgers with him on the weekends at baseball games.  

So this is the part where my life is pretty much over and I "start going to bed at a decent hour" and "start dressing like a librarian" and "not drinking til 3AM" and "not start drinking at 12PM" and trying to "network" and "get to know politics" and "start working on my future" and "wake up early" and "drink Starbucks" and "have a lunch break" and "start taking showers" and "put on makeup" and "contribute to society." 

It's going to be great.