Notes from state-comissioned job interview class

How come the expectation for "when our dreams come true" is that it is the reality conforming to our dreams and not our dreams changing for the reality? Why bemoan the death of what never felt good? Or at least in-reach, with anything but phantom fingertips? If we could all understand the process of engineering our dreams based on an amusement and affection for experience, wouldn't that help a lot? The seeds of dreams usually die and the disenfranchised many shirk and shrink, but don't we along the way forget the circumstances those dreams came from? Maybe a time you'd look back on, and think, man, I was so foolish then. But the dreams still demand water and the disenfranchised adult humans are always talking about revolution--the kind whose seed is anger. The disenfranchised has also felt like my imagination, which once was my entire idea of myself, and that might be sick and withering. More likely it is still undefined, or redefining itself. The first question of a job interview generally goes something like, "Tell me about yourself." See, I am a human being and I DO have needs, yes I do. That's one thing that I am today. A man that can now say that. Know me, here and now, and shame please kindly exit. I steal too, like the following thought from Emerson: To simply know thyself falls short--Revere Thyself! That is about me. The fading sound of disenfranchisement is a welcome relief. It gives me a feeling of digging in to life, rather than standing at its boundaries, hoping for someone to notice me. Life sometimes even looks fun under the florescent lights, I think. These are the thoughts of a truly daring creature. The other wallflower whistling in the dark was the dude who imagined what he'd say when somebody cared to know, and what was thought to say is sharpened and lovely, but nobody ever asked except one or two. What ended up being said always came out in crazy nonsensical waves of poorly executed big-word strings, lip trembles, and looks of am-i-good-enough?Answer-me! expectations. I think they tended to get the idea that I still may not know who I am very well. (Back to the interview.) Well, I am sure now who I am. I am that I don't know who I am. With a mind to Revere what I am. And as Mr. Head with the droopy neck, the instructor who can't emphasize enough how to definitively end your remarks, would say: "That is the answer."

It is a bad feeling for people to have an encounter with me not really knowing anything about me upon leaving. This happens in all parts of my life and always has. At best I have been mysterious and an intrigue--generally, closed off, reserved, reticent, aloof, and/or painfully shy. Mystery is better left to personal thought I'm starting to conclude. And maybe the intimate trust of only a few. A special few who are not exempt from interviewing too--they must jump through my hoops, be there in distress and invite me to theirs. Be patient when I am clearly sniffing the wrong paths out and demanding that I don't give up. Be both reasonable and faithful--which, mind you, are not contradicting states. It just takes time to establish both things in one relationship. These few friends, family members, and loved ones get to see my Mystery and I get to seek theirs. And the rest, I'm starting to surrender to the fact that I need a straight(best foot)forward version of me too. Because this me has needs that must be met. Else I run the risk of withering into something I couldn't stand to be. A heel. A waste of space, except to an old acquaintance--Shame. I keep finding myself bound by my human bones. But off somewhere else. Trying to justify the space they are taking, rather than working with the space they are occupying. Assumedly, my torso will soon be filling out a chair in somebody's office and they will have something I do need and I can either ramble about how to justify my space there in that moment (the only thing I know how to do right now) or I can look them in the eye and tell them how I will make them money and show up on time and get along well with others. Which I feel confident I can do--for some odd reason it just seems more important to justify myself first. Um, the bones beat the mind, best three out of always. My mind says too much to listen to. The simple laws of behavior and habit may feel like mine to follow, but in truth they are my master. Because human behavior is actually Nature's. So, it spawns a lot of conventions--something Mr. Head with the droopy neck knows all about. Sit knees forward, hands gently folded into one another. No crossing of anything, ever. Only say sir. Not ma'am. Never tell them you have kids. If you do a pre-screen on the phone, then shave if you shave. Put on a suit. No talking beyond thirty seconds. We don't listen beyond thirty seconds. It just takes a slight bit of resistance to show me how I suffer for the assumption that conventions do not apply to me. Mr. Head knows how the scenario of a job interview applies to everybody (which is now me, too).

So while we are here, in the interview class, here are some of my Notes:
--Don't always tell everything to anyone, especially lovers and employers.
--There's always time, just panic doesn't tell you so.
--Clear gestures of goodwill and equality among people always goes appreciated.
--Calm, sane, reasonable, and curious interactions are lovely.
--Questions, ears too.
--They size you up, size 'em back. No contempt, no competition.
--Just ask and listen. Just answer and value what you say. Then shut up.
--The positives are short. The negatives, only if they must come up, have a story. Dive in and tell it.
--Don't empty your heart out in the whole of what is said, so as to make sure you have a little blood left on reserve. Blood to use and travel by. Blood, the carrier of life.
--Mr. Head, with the droopy neck, knows more than me.

It feels better this way. Taking notes. I noticed everyone in that class really hard. We all have "barriers" in getting steady employment, they say. They say it like they mean everyone, even those with jobs, but us in this room, well it really seems like we do and maybe they mean just us. Only about one of us knows what these barriers are. Mr. Head, with the droopy neck. He is an orphan of a veteran, we found out today as he ran through the state application with himself as a stand-in applicant. His qualifications to teach us, so far as I could tell, was the he had a job. We didn't. Most everything else for Mr. Head was "NA." It was very important he said that when writing NA on the state application that we didn't write "N.A." or "N/A" or "Not Applicable." And why? Because it says to. And just as Mr. Head was about to blurt out the holy grail answer about what to say when this thing that happened to me once came up...a man's hand shot up, "What if you just got out of prison?" Distraction. Dammit. But hat's how the scenario applied to him. The answer for all of us, said Mr. Head: Always tell the story. Don't be afraid. Give the negative answers the long way, which he went on to do. The positives, the short way. Great. Got it.

And so of our deeper exploration into employment barriers, which now were starting to take the proportions of what it was that was keeping us from being part of the human race, we finally get told in a mercy-cold way, that it is OK. We are loved anyway. But I'll tell you what, it's eternally delightful and amusing to watch us try and become. Just like the girl, whose drained expression hints that all of her energies required to feign an interest have transferred into her Cricket-mashing fingers, well, just like her shirt says in multi-colored font: "Every Damn Day!" We all be funny asking funny things every damn day. Just trying to become every damn day. Because what's funny is we don't know that we are being empowered there. Into taxpayers? "That is the answer." Into humans? Well, that depends. At least for today, each of one of us there, well our dreams ain't true. But there is power to be had somewhere. Once a little listen is had. I am convinced of this and today I for one am listening.

There was an example given by the teacher about the interview before the interview, small talk pre-questions like in the lobby of an imaginary interview: "What's your favorite kind of dog?" the ever-esteemed bi-monthly check collector might ask. Know your answer, own it, and don't say something like Rottweiler or Poodle. No powder keg breeds. Certainly those four walls aren't a space for controversy. And while being regaled with a story about how Mr. Head with the droopy neck actually came to like poodles after his wife insisted on getting one, a very literal Asian man raised his hand. He confessed he knew nothing of dogs and would have no idea how to answer that question. So what should he say? The reply, "The answer is Labrador. Say a Lab."
"But I don't know what that is, and so what would I have said in that case."
"Well now you do know. Look up Labrador Retriever on the computer. Everybody likes them. The answer is Labrador. See for yourself." The student scribbles down the answer in his spiral. That is how the scenario applies to him.

Me, see I know how to ask questions. All prideful, nervous, young and healthy, placed high in all the assessment exams. Troubled past. In image I may have them right where I want them. Walking potential with a new-found interest in the actual. I'm jobless. I'm too mental and emotionally volatile to be self-supporting. I'm congenial and ashamed. Submissive but still full of pride. I know this all and am still at a severe advantage over the room full of people with an entire history of eating under a roof every day. Cause they old. Because today's companies have said so. Mr. Head, himself, acknowledged it. But I'm sitting there (again, I'm there) in my working prime broke smart deep unsure trying to grow MY plot of land in this life and I raise my hand and say something to the effect of: "What about answering when they ask about my weaknesses? What do I say then." On the way home driving I laughed out loud thinking back on this. I was trying to think about it from Mr. Head's head. Glaring the weaknesses be, fool. That's how that scenario applies to me.

But when I see how it applies to everybody, my dreams look different. And I will be working then. And soon. This truth feels ok. And easy. And I have a deep affection for it. I woke up and didn't expect the day to unfold quite like this day. And I can say that for most. When I write and think carefully, there is redemption. When I don't, there is not. I am angry. I want revolution. I am gifted everything in this life and I can seek redemption or not. Break down the barriers if you must, but one thing that me and the State of Texas and Mr. Head can all agree on is that I am a dislocated seeker. And that's OK. For now. There was this man sitting next to me, I daresay about 18 years late on the matter of cell phone etiquette, who interrupted class by answering his phone and what we could hear instead of the teacher's voice for a minute was, "I am at the Work Center. I am at an interview class with the job force, and I guess we are learning how to do interviews better," etc. etc. I love these moments in public when somebody answers their phone and starts explaining everything that is around them. You start to listen carefully and feel a heightened importance in playing a role in the scene being described for an off-stage stranger. This is a scenario invented by modern times. Something that didn't used to happen eighteen years ago. It takes on the amount of meaning that you want to put into it. In that class it wasn't just me feeling important. I saw some nodding, all hyper aware that yes(!) we are at the Workforce and we are getting tips on interviews and maybe we do need to get better. Together. Revere Ourselves! This is how the scenario applies to us! Tempted again, I was, by one of these meta-moments of comedic imaginings--the brilliance of all the workings under the florescent light--my current mantra at once reminded me of and deflected my revelations: Do Not Go Off Somewhere Else! In a humbled state of self-love and present for the State of Texas employment services, it felt like a splash of water on this drying summer seed. Next time I can speak to who I am maybe. Clearly. And then shut up. And to have hope in a drought? The truly daring creature proceeds.