Brooklyn, revisited

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

I am in Brooklyn at a job interview.

I am in Brooklyn at a job interview where they (3 ladies) never extended their hands in greeting towards me, nor upon my departure.

I stuck my hand out.

They looked at it.

They looked at me.

Then they looked at each other.

This was, apparently, confusing to them.

So according to this organization, interviews do not consist of proper introductions.

I might as well have given them the finger. Or tried to make out with them. All three of them. At once. And videotaped it. …….. But I digress….

I am in Brooklyn.

No wonder you’re interviewing me for a Human Resources position, because frankly, your’s sucks.

I love the fact that you gave me reference request forms that I have the lovely responsibility of getting to and from each reference. You do realize that I am taking them home and filling them all out myself. I have pens in different colors. And, conveniently, different personalities, so I am not technically lying. We’ll just list Sybill as my last supervisor. Let’s just hope she’s over that last phase she went through…..

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

And, I decided to have some fun.

While taking a quick stroll after my interview, I yelled. In the middle of the street. In a Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. In Brooklyn. I yelled “Rock out with your cock out!”.

And no one turned around.

I find that quite unsettling. And interesting. And… erotically disturbing.

I am in Brooklyn. Again

While I didn’t get hit with a lego man this time, the ladies who conducted this 5 minute interview surely were more unprofessional than a screaming 2 year old. Seriously, my 2 year old nephew has the capability to shake hands. And fist bump. He’s a badass.

I am in Brooklyn. It cost me $4.50 to get here

And it’s raining.

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

Fuck.