FUCK YEAR
I had an interview last Friday at Christof's work. I had applied there a couple of weeks ago, and it was kind of more, 'Man I really want to work here, but if I don't get the job, well, life goes on.'
I haven't worked in about 2 years because I was so focused on being over here in the Netherlands. I got my verblijfsvergunning (Green Card) back in July, after much trial and tribulation - quite literally! Now I can start building my life as an adult in a completely new place.
Anyway, I filled it out, and Christof handed it in for me when he went to work. Later that day, when Christof came home, he said I had an interview on Friday, November 20th. I was so damn nervous. Not only are stores a little different here in terms of motivation and goals and atmosphere than in America, but I had to do this entire interview in another language. PUKES ALL OVER THE PLACE. It's not even that my Dutch is bad; I know deep down that it's fucking great all things considered. However, my grammar and sentence structure lacks at times, and sometimes I struggle to entirely convey what I am saying. This might also have to do since English has billions of ways of saying the same thing, whereas other languages tend to be much more limited. I find this both fascinating and frustrating.
I went into the interview on Friday nervous, shaking, sweating, and cold, yet early, which always helps. Bing, bang, boom, interview over! I struggled with one question, which was, 'What do you want out of this job?' I had a hard time answering it since in America, you are expected to kiss everyone's butt like it is made out of delicious marzipan and hazelnuts. Mireille, 'da bawss', scheduled a second interview for me on Monday the 23rd with the regional manager since she was unable to make an impartial decision - mostly since she's known Christof for nearly 10 years.
Every day that weekend, I smoked pot and relaxed and had fun and tried not to think about the impending interview.
Monday rolls around, and I am in some sort of zone/haze. I take the bus down to the store, go into the back room to wait for Wim to come out and interview me. Christof is sitting at the break room table working with some co-workers, and I just say, 'Hey!' and wait as patiently as I could. Wim finally comes out, interviews me, but it's a bit different this time around. He asks less questions about me and introduces me to the possibilities of vacation time and discusses salary and working times. I tried to emphasize as much as I could that I want to improve my Dutch and that I am extremely flexible in terms of how many hours I work and what times I work. It's mostly true: I got my degree, I'm over here, and I don't have any friends. This means less avatar art and internet time, but I don't feel the need to be home all the time.
Anyway, I leave as hastily as I could to get home. I come home absolutely drenched because of the beautiful Dutch autumn weather: wind, rain, and cold. Christof says it's 99% sure that I have the job, but Mireille would call me Thursday (yesterday) to confirm or deny it.
GOT THE PHONE CALL. GOT THE JOB. FUCK YES.
'When can you start?'
'As soon as I can!'
'OKAY SEE YOU MONDAY AT 1 PM LOL.'
My life is finally starting to come together over here. I still need health insurance, but I opened a bank account yesterday as well. It's amazing. I feel fucking fantastic. I also am down to 160 pounds, down from my max of 285 a few years ago. I didn't think I'd ever, ever get out of that several-year-long rut I was stuck in.
Also, Noodles has quadrupled in size since we got him in May. It's retarded how huge he's gotten, but he's still my little kitty witty bitty poo-poo butt.
I haven't worked in about 2 years because I was so focused on being over here in the Netherlands. I got my verblijfsvergunning (Green Card) back in July, after much trial and tribulation - quite literally! Now I can start building my life as an adult in a completely new place.
Anyway, I filled it out, and Christof handed it in for me when he went to work. Later that day, when Christof came home, he said I had an interview on Friday, November 20th. I was so damn nervous. Not only are stores a little different here in terms of motivation and goals and atmosphere than in America, but I had to do this entire interview in another language. PUKES ALL OVER THE PLACE. It's not even that my Dutch is bad; I know deep down that it's fucking great all things considered. However, my grammar and sentence structure lacks at times, and sometimes I struggle to entirely convey what I am saying. This might also have to do since English has billions of ways of saying the same thing, whereas other languages tend to be much more limited. I find this both fascinating and frustrating.
I went into the interview on Friday nervous, shaking, sweating, and cold, yet early, which always helps. Bing, bang, boom, interview over! I struggled with one question, which was, 'What do you want out of this job?' I had a hard time answering it since in America, you are expected to kiss everyone's butt like it is made out of delicious marzipan and hazelnuts. Mireille, 'da bawss', scheduled a second interview for me on Monday the 23rd with the regional manager since she was unable to make an impartial decision - mostly since she's known Christof for nearly 10 years.
Every day that weekend, I smoked pot and relaxed and had fun and tried not to think about the impending interview.
Monday rolls around, and I am in some sort of zone/haze. I take the bus down to the store, go into the back room to wait for Wim to come out and interview me. Christof is sitting at the break room table working with some co-workers, and I just say, 'Hey!' and wait as patiently as I could. Wim finally comes out, interviews me, but it's a bit different this time around. He asks less questions about me and introduces me to the possibilities of vacation time and discusses salary and working times. I tried to emphasize as much as I could that I want to improve my Dutch and that I am extremely flexible in terms of how many hours I work and what times I work. It's mostly true: I got my degree, I'm over here, and I don't have any friends. This means less avatar art and internet time, but I don't feel the need to be home all the time.
Anyway, I leave as hastily as I could to get home. I come home absolutely drenched because of the beautiful Dutch autumn weather: wind, rain, and cold. Christof says it's 99% sure that I have the job, but Mireille would call me Thursday (yesterday) to confirm or deny it.
GOT THE PHONE CALL. GOT THE JOB. FUCK YES.
'When can you start?'
'As soon as I can!'
'OKAY SEE YOU MONDAY AT 1 PM LOL.'
My life is finally starting to come together over here. I still need health insurance, but I opened a bank account yesterday as well. It's amazing. I feel fucking fantastic. I also am down to 160 pounds, down from my max of 285 a few years ago. I didn't think I'd ever, ever get out of that several-year-long rut I was stuck in.
Also, Noodles has quadrupled in size since we got him in May. It's retarded how huge he's gotten, but he's still my little kitty witty bitty poo-poo butt.