And I Would Say Yes

On this day twenty-seven years ago, at approximately 4:20 in the morning, a ten pound baby boy with a head roughly the size of a bowling ball was born. He would have skin so pale that one of his first sunburns was so bad he would actually blister and be miserable for the rest of his summer break.

He would have subtle grey eyes that sometimes appeared blue and a large nose that suited his face so well it would take a moment for observers to realize the true size of it. Along his arms, up his shoulders, and across his back would be scores of freckles.

His hair would start out a dark orange-red, and as he got older the orange would turn even darker, like leaves in autumn, so that the color was brown-red. But his beard would be orange. Very, orange. With blonde around the corners of his mouth. The hair on his arms would be blonde, and his eyelashes would appear short, although they were long, because the very tips were a coppery color that showed up beautifully in sunlight.

He would be tall, very tall. Well over six foot, and with shoulders like doorways. He would be lean, but it would be just barely evident that of all the meals one could eat, dessert would be the one he favored most. He would grow into his enormous head and he would wear glasses. The combination of his obvious strength combined with his poor eyesight would have a disarming effect on those he met, while at the same one could find themselves intimidated.

He would be handsome, in the way that people could be handsome yet not immediately take your breath away. One would think, 'not bad', and move on. That person would be a fool. They would never get to know him then, they would never talk to him and learn his sense of humor (dry, sarcastic, very very funny), how he sees the world (it's stupid but it's beautiful too), his opinions on canceled sci-fi shows (what happened to Firefly is a travesty), or anything about him that's interesting (which would be everything).

They would never see his smile that completely transforms his face, that turns him from simply handsome to someone you can't take your eyes off of. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the sound of his laugh. They would never hear the low rumble of his voice when he speaks, or the slightly higher pitch he unconsciously adopts when he's really excited about something. They would never hear the way he says 'I love you', even when he doesn't speak the words.

On this day twenty-seven years ago, at approximately 4:20 in the morning, a ten pound baby boy with a head roughly the size of a bowling ball was born. Twenty-three years, three months, and x number of days later he would be sitting in a classroom at a table one row in front of a young blonde girl who chose that day not to wash her hair before class. The students would introduce themselves at the front of the class and say a few things about themselves and afterward during a break, he would turn around in his seat and say to her seven words that would change her life forever:

"Do you have a brother named Scott?"

Friday Morning 8:24-10:20am, Re-Cap

I had an interview at the library Friday, and I swear to god, I have no idea how it went. Here's what happened:

I know in advance that there will be a small group of us all involved in a 'joint interview.' So I'm prepared for a few other people. There are at least ten. At least. I am the youngest. And I don't mean by a 4 or 5 years, I mean I'm the youngest applicant by a minimum of 10 years. So naturally my entire game is thrown off. I don't know what I was expecting but I sincerely did not expect that.

I also know in advance there will be a series of clerical tests, after all I'm applying for a desk clerk position at a library. I understand there are some things that are difficult to phrase on a resume, e.g. I can answer 20 mathematical questions ranging from addition and subtraction to multiplication and division in under 7 minutes with approximately a 90% success rate. So I'm ready for the testing. There are four tests involved.

Typing test: type as much of this page (which consists of 4 paragraphs, indentations, quotation marks, and one underlined word) as can you 5 minutes. If you finish the page, begin writing again until time has run out. You take the test twice and they take your best score. Pretty simple stuff. We're given a minute or two to practice. Half way through my practice run, the woman on my right leans over and earnestly says, "You're making me nervous! You're typing so fast!"

I actually apologized to her.

So we start the test. I'm just trucking along feeling pretty good about things, and why shouldn't I? I only need to be able to type 30wpm, and they're giving me 4 paragraphs and 5 minutes. I've got this under control. Then I stumble on the underlined word. And I completely blank on keyboard commands. So I skip the underlining part and from there it gets worse, but in really simple, irritating ways. I don't even finish the page. When the time is up, I've just tabbed in to begin the last paragraph, which is one goddamn sentence. So I'm pissed that I couldn't finish the damn thing. Then we're asked to "send the print job". We're in Microsoft Word, a program I used to use all the friggin' time. I glance up to my tool bar. There's no File tab. I glance around for a printer icon. There's nothing there. I sit quietly and begin freaking the fuck out internally.

How is this going to look if I have to ask the librarian for help in printing the typing test I haven't even managed to complete that I'm taking so that I can apply for a position in the library, possibly working with her?

It's going to make me look like a goddamn fool, that's how it's going to look.

I use OpenOffice. I have no need for Microsoft Office, or any updated versions of it. Not when I'm just writing at home on my own laptop. But in the library, I do. And apparently a few changes were made when they moved on up. For example, the 2007 edition does still have a print option. And if you've used it you know where it is. I sat very still for a moment in time that seemed to stretch on forever, hoping like hell the librarian wouldn't come over and ask how I was doing. Then finally, salvation. The woman to my left clicked on an icon in the upper left corner, and a menu dropped down. I followed suit on my own computer. And lo! there was the Print option.

Bless that random applicant. Bless her tiny haven't-taken-a-typing-test-since-'78 heart.

Then we were asked to delete everything and start again.

Afterwards  we went back to the room we started in, with tables strewn about like a classroom, and we were given the math tests. I hate math. I hate math so much I want to punch it right in it't stupid math face. But math doesn't have a face, so I have to be satisfied with the knowledge that I'm awesome at it, but only if I want to be. And I never want to be. I was under the impression, thanks largely (read entirely) in part the library website, that I was allowed to use a calculator. She hands the tests out, and nobody is taking out a calculator. I want to ask if I can, but then I remember how much younger than everyone I am and suddenly feel incredibly insecure and shy. I stay quiet. We start the test and I literally find myself tapping my pencil on the table as I count off numbers in my head. I'm so messed up and anxious about the entire thing I completely forget that 6+7=13, or that 9x8=72.

Picture, if you will, me sitting at this table by myself, because nobody wanted to sit with me, at the back of the class, hunched over my test, gripping my pencil like I'll die if I let it go, one hand fisted in my hair as I struggle to both count without using my fingers 7 plus 6, and not fog up my glasses because I'm leaning so far over there's barely any room between my face and the table for air.

Then picture that same thing, except me adding 9 eight times, still struggling not to use my fingers, because if you had held a gun to my head I still could not possibly have told you that the total of 9, eight times is seventy-fucking-two.

I got that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach as reality sank in and I accepted that the only thing that could possibly save me was just not answering the question. Not answering seemed safer somehow than answering wrong. So I said fuck it, and skipped it.

The two other tests were first alphabetizing and then determining whether three sets of number were all the same, all different, or if only two of them were similar, and if so, which two. The last one I nailed. I'm sure of it. The alphabetizing I felt great about, until I got home and I was telling Jeremy about it and I suddenly thought: fuck, did I misunderstand the directions?

I have no idea how I scored on any of the tests. Not one.

There was no actual interview. There has not been an actual interview. When I first applied, it was via emailing my resume to the human resource assistant, who sent me a few questions in reply. I sent her back my answers, and they called to ask if I wanted to come in for an interview. I don't know if this interview will ever actually take place. Apparently, it's a really long hiring process. If they're interested, based off of my emailed responses and my test scores, then they'll ask me to sit down with human resources. If they're still interested I'll be asked to come back to sit down with someone else in the library. And then, if they're still keen, after all that, I'll be asked to come in for a trial work day.

And even then, that doesn't guarantee employment. They require a 4-5 year job commitment from all applicants. Which I said, sure no problem, to. Stupid answer, because they aren't even hiring right now. I knew that to begin with but I agreed to come in and test because they hire 3-4 clerks a year and they say some people are talking about retiring. Jesus this whole thing sounds ridiculous now that I see it written out:

I applied for a position that isn't open yet, but may be open in the near future, they think.

I'm applying for a rumor, basically.

This is my life.