A key to success...

I learned something last week:  always wear a suit to a job interview.  This is really just a great piece of advice, and it works well for me, for about a bazillion different reasons.

For starters, I look amazing in a suit.  I mean, I'm already quite handsome, if you ignore the fact that were I to stand naked in front of a white wall, you would only see a floating pair of glasses and some red splotches here and there.  I've been compared to an albino Denzel Washington.  Granted, I was the guy doing the comparison, but it's still pretty flattering, right?

But put me in a suit, and my hotness goes off the chart.  I give you exhibit A, which was taken a few months ago at a Halloween party.  Myself and the Shlesbian were at a "Dead Rockstar Party", and yours truly decided to fake dye his hair black and wear a suit and go as Frank Sinatra.  Unfortunately, I looked nothing like ol' Blue Eyes, so I wound up being The Shlesbian's manager.  Or, "extremely good-looking guy in suit at a halloween party"

So, exhibit A:



To all my female readers - you can make out with your monitor.  It's okay.  You wouldn't be the first.  And yes, that is the Shlesbian's real face.  Creeps the hell out of the kids.

So, I'm at the job interview, and the interviewer keeps checking me out in my hot suit.  Which is good, because I keep looking down her shirt.  This makes me feel kind of bad, because I think one of the major rules of a job interview is to not look down the interviewer's shirt, but I am a male, and I am hotwired to do this.  In fact, at one point during the interview, I came to the conclusion that if I didn't get the job, I needed to ask this woman out for a cup of coffee. 

Unfortunately, that never happened, because I got the job.  I blame the suit.

It got better, though - I found myself in the conference hall, with a bunch of other recent hires.  They were all wearing jeans, or crappy "club shirts" that were usually purple with black swirls.  They took one look at me, in my snazzy glory, and gulped.  I wanted to look at them and say "that's right, boys and girls.  I am the king of this little pack, and I own you now."

I didn't get a chance to say that, though, because I was busy staring down the shirt of my new boss.

2 comments:

  1. I hope at some point she reads this and fires you.

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  2. She won't be able to - she'll see me in my awesomeness, and just be like 'meh'.

    In all seriousness, though, it was kind of funny. I kept saying "don't look down her shirt", which, of course, just made me more aware. I narrowly avoided catastrophe, I'm sure.

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