This morning I had an interview on the Hill. So even if I don’t get the job, which I think would be an excellent fit for me and for them, chew on THAT, Hill interns!! Looks like you don’t get all the interviews, suckers!! <ppppppbbbbt>
Anyway. After much hemming and hawing yesterday afternoon about what I could wear and what I should wear, I was pleased to discover that the black maternity pants the other middle lent to me, with a black dressy tank with ruffles and the one black suit jacket I own, all combined nicely in a passable suit for the day. And those people who say “oh shoes always fit” (I used to be one of them) clearly have never been pregnant, because my only option for today was the cute leopard print flats I own and yes, are suitable for work, though not my typical first choice for an interview shoe. Nothing else, save the blessed flip-flops, was going to fit in 90 degrees, and I did wear the flips on the train.
And so I planned to set off this morning, makeup on, hair done, suit constructed carefully, about 9:30 am, leaving myself plenty of time to wander to and from the train, stop by the husband’s office, use the bathroom, and so on.
At 9:20 I was almost done getting ready when the dog started barking quietly. I thought I heard a knock at the door but surely the dog would have barked louder if someone was at our door. Just to be sure, I, sans pants, crept to the peep hole and saw our across-the-hall neighbor standing there. I swiftly donned the required garb for such encounters and opened the door.
His car was at the shop, his wife had the other keys, he needed to be in Baltimore for work, and could I give him a ride to the garage, some four miles down the road, to pick up his car?
We shot out of the condo parking lot and set off at a barely legal pace to get to the garage. Four miles down the road in the old days would mean a five-minute drive. Four miles down the road now–and I believe he meant four miles down the road after we get to the right road–is a different beast. At 10:01 I was back at the condo, hauling myself out of the car, into the house, throwing my lunch into my bag and double-checking that shoes-that-aren’t-flip-flops were in there before patting the dog on the head and bolting out the door again.
By 10:10 I was at the Metro station where someone (like me) with the right type of pass card can park his or her vehicle for the day and Metro into the city. If, that is, this person can find a parking spot in the parking garage. Doing my best not to hyperventilate at the lack of parking, I decided that the risk of parking in the reserved section was worth getting to my interview on time, so I did. Then I gathered my things, prayed that I didn’t just swipe an armpit full of deodorant on the outside of my black jacket, and took off at top-ish speed for the tracks.
I’ve played out a lot of scenarios in my mind throughout the course of my life, but sprinting full-tilt, five months pregnant, wearing a suit and flip-flops, laptop bag clapping me on the back in encouragement, to catch a train for an interview on the Hill was not one I’d pictured before. The only thing I could think, besides “I’m screwed if I fall” is “Heck yeah, I’ve still got it.”
So even though I had planned to mosey to the Metro and into my interview, I really looked more like this, although I still made it with a few minutes to spare, and even had time to change my shoes in the husband’s office:
What I actually looked like catching my train today.
The interview went well, I enjoyed the conversation and what I heard about the office, and they liked me enough to ask me to come back tomorrow to meet the rest of the team and the congressman. I’m 95% very excited about this and 5% wondering what the HECK I’m supposed to wear this time.