"But I learned that there's a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly."-Christian Bale

Christian Bale would know what it's like to embarrass himself. I believe that what he gained from his freak-out heard round the world is the type of character described as "I'm-never-going-to-get-hired-again-because-I'm-crazy-so-I'm-going-to-laugh-it-off-and-not-threaten-the-lives-of-anymore-production-staff."

I, also, am embarrassing (in a much less threatening way)

I shall continue my travels to my very first job interview...now. Two weeks later. I'm typically very efficient (great information for any interested employers who want to give me a job *wink wink* *nudge nudge* *pleasesomeonehireme*), but I've been quite busy laying outside getting sun poisoning and, as a result, am now confined to my couch so I do not actually get 3rd degree burns all over my body *sigh*.

Part Deux--also known as, "I am unable to live life normally"

9:04 am--I put my shoes back on. At this point, my face is literally aflame with embarrassment. Who, literally, walks out of their shoes in front of an entire train station? Me. The answer, for any odd happenstance that one could never think of happening, will always happen to me. Talk about amateur hour.

9:10 am--I embark upon the front of LaSalle Street Station, full of hopes and wishes and a plea to successfully stay in my shoes. I begin walking toward the red line, which is where the second moment of inner-mortification begins...

(Before I get into this, let me explain one small detail. I have grown up in Chicago my entire life. Not a suburb of Chicago, not an extended stay in Chicago, but actually within city limits. This being said, it is unbelievable that after living here for 21.75 years, I have experienced none of my city. For example:

I have never been to the air & water show.
I have never been to the Thanksgiving or St. Patrick's Day parades (mainly because I was previously devoted to the southside parade, R.I.P.)
I have never gone to the Field Museum.
I have never "Biked the Drive" or taken a boat ride on the river.

I blame all of this on my parents (sorry, Mom), who constantly think I am going to be kidnapped everywhere I go. )

How does this tie in to my journey? My unintentional obliviousness to my home city also explains why I don't know how to navigate public transportation. What I'm saying is...

I have no idea where the Red Line is.
Not one clue.

9:30: IT IS NOW 9:30 AM. For the past twenty minutes, I have been walking, no, barreling up and down Jackson, trying to find the Red Line. Why Jackson, you may ask? Because my mapquest told me I could catch it on Jackson. Guess what? Mapquest LIES.

9:35: My tolerance and patience no longer exists. I am sweating and muttering profanity to myself. I no longer am giving the impression that I am a savvy business woman, but rather that I live inside a cardboard box and have actually lost my mind.

9:45: I have stopped talking to myself, recollected my thoughts, and formulated a new game plan--I'll just walk there. ( Mind you, my interview is on Grand).

9:55: I can no longer feel my feet. I am walking like a duck down State St. I stop over at a McDonalds to change into a more sensible shoe (I am perpetually prepared for disaster). I look in the mirror, smooth my hair again, and realize that my shirt is see-through and I wore a floral printed bra. I actually hate myself.

10:00: Guess what is on State Street? The stops for the Red Line. Out of principle, I refuse to get on and continue walking. Take that, public transportation.

10:15: My destination is within reach. I can hear the epic Rocky music playing as I see the sign appear before me. I contemplate doing the slow run, but realize no one else thinks I am as funny as I think I am, so I resist.

10:20: I walk upstairs to the agency reception desk and am notified that the woman I am to be interviewing with is running twenty minutes behind. Oh good. Maybe twenty minutes from now I won't be perspiring like LeBron James and can actually hold an intelligent conversation.

11:00: Interview. Panic. I am actually pulling at strings to relate my major to this job.

12:00: The interview ends. I thank them for their time. I get in the elevator, take it down, the doors open....and I step out of my heels again.


Unfortunately, I did not get the job. I did learn, however, that for my next interview, I am going to hot glue myself into my shoes.