Interview in My Underwear

It's been so up and down these last few weeks, really the worst roller coaster ride I've ever been on. Had to cancel a trip to an unfriendly nation because I'm not sure I can attend a friend's wedding with my wife when it actually goes down. Last thing I need is for my daughter and me to be detained because we carry the wrong passport. But really, Cuba doesn't care anymore. I know that, but nobody told the State Department. Maybe there was a fair amount of melodrama connected to that. After all, I am meant to be Randy's best man or something, and had left large amounts of blood spatter around the flat the night before. The blood was much darker and stickier than usual. Must be the oranges. Pain is the cleanser! No matter, all my tea towels are red for a reason. Tomorrow, Randy and I are going to see Superbad so maybe we'll be able to discuss a trip to Havana.

The anger is all because of a temp job I started last Tuesday. I really hit it off with my supervisor. My totally hot supervisor, but that's a totally different problem altogether. She worked me like a dog nosebleeds and all, and I did everything she asked me to do and more. Everybody liked me, at least that's what they told my recruiter which is why I was really confused when my supervisor told me to pack my shit on Friday afternoon. She didn't seem too happy about it, and my recruiters were caught totally off guard, but they've been working hard for me. Sometimes you have to smack them around a bit, but they eventually remember that they're supposed to recruit, and find something for me. I know who they work for, but I'm not afraid to push my weight around a bit (all 11 stone of chiseled sun kissed goodness) and make them think they work for me.

You can't help who your parents are, and that might have had something to do with it. There are hundreds of thousands of Hallmans, possibly millions around the world but I guess it is a small world. A certain relative has a reputation in the mining industry, and depending on whom you ask, it's good or bad. To his credit, he told me to quit as soon as he heard where I was rocking the payroll. By the second day, people were nosing around asking if I'm related to so and so. I played coy because that information can be prejudicial. The job was crap anyway, but it threw me for a loop because I did nothing wrong. In fact, I did everything right. Oh well, I'm pretty sure my supervisor was fired shortly after I left.

Which brings me to the interview in my underwear part. Friday afternoon, I ripped my recruiter a new one and happened to stop by his office for an explanation. The slack-jawed gay porn top reject stared vacantly into the distance as his supervisor went into damage control mode and fobbed me off onto another recruiter. The new guy had the perfect job just for me. Because of the client's time constraints, they did not have time to meet in person. This afternoon(!) as I was jumping out of the shower, the phone rang. It was the recruiter:

Recruiter: Dax! Ted! I've been trying to reach you all morning. Do you have a hand phone or something? Where you been man? Partying all night probably, right?

Me: Ummm... Actually...

Ted: Hey listen! Would you be open to a phone interview with the client? They want to wrap this up as soon as they can.

Me: Sure. I've done phone interviews befo...

Ted: Okay! Okay, just a sec. Let me put you on hold and we can conference with the client.

At this point I was still wrapped in a towel, but as the phone played Queens of the Stone Age I threw on some boxers and a form fitting t-shirt my mother-in-law gave me, and wrapped my bloody knuckles in an old Marks and Spencer tea towel. The client threw me some soft ball questions and asked me about my language skills. What that all has to do with payroll is a mystery, but I guess she was just trying to size me up. I was all like, "Hai! It's sooo great to talk with you finally!" Totally fake, or at least that's how I felt. But you want to make the client feel at ease, that way they feel better about eventually paying you a very large sum of money and making your life shit. She was impressed, and if everything works out I'll be back at it again next week. In the meantime, I'll be shifting sheetrock and granite countertops for Enzo and hammering a few nails. It's better than detailing Bobby's Maserati, and Sissy says this is better than bloodletting.