I have just been on one of the weirdest job interviews I've ever done. Not, like, procedurally; I've been on some that were much stranger in that regard. Like that time I signed up with a temp agency, and they sent me on precisely one interview where the hiring manager and I were having two entirely different conversations and didn't realize it until we compared papers and realized that the agency had "reformatted" my résumé beyond all recognition. Seemed pointless to continue after that. He told me -- and I am not making this up -- that I was way too smart to be there(? smart people need temp gigs too, buddy) and tried to get me into publishing. Which is one of the places I ended up anyway, just not at an office that expected me to show up at 9 in the morning.
No, this one was strange mainly due to content. He was aiming to hire an assistant for a circus act he's developing, and that always leads you to ask some interesting questions. "Are you aiming to incorporate kicking and punching into your act?" for instance, or, "Would I be standing on your face barefoot or do you want me wearing dance shoes?"
He is very emphatic that this is not fetish work, and at this point I am satisfied that it isn't. Let's be real here: At this point, I would not care if it were, so long as he knew what boundaries were and kept his hands to himself. Technically, I've already done some, hence my observation that the foot fetish people have always been very polite to me. (Ladies' US 6/Euro 36, with long toes. Apparently this is A Look. Who knew?) Although, playing devil's advocate, if it were a fetish thing, I'd be demanding at least a triple-digit hourly. Kinky emotional labor is expensive.
I don't know if I have the gig, and if I do, I don't know when it will start, since as with all weird art work it depends on the schedules of the other people he's hiring. So I have no idea if/when I will have money again, which means no rats for Ratsgiving this year because I can't make the adoption fee for Mainely, not that I know whether I'd have an adequate Rat Mommy score. (The cage I have is technically a wee bit small for four, although in practice they also have the roof and the top of the cage stand to run around on. I've never had a problem before -- even the vets who have to put down the dying ones comment that they look well-cared for -- but who knows with a rescue agency.) I'm not even sure if I'll get a Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, there's food in the house, I'll get a dinner, it just might be macaroni and cheese out of a box.
Every so often I consider going into financial domination. It's a hell of a lot of self-promoting and improv acting work, but if some super rich dude gets his jollies from being ordered to call Spain and buy me some goddamn flamenco shoes, then fine. There's probably someone sitting at home tonight wanking to the glimpse he caught of my hair at the T stop this afternoon, anyway. If the internet has taught me anything, it's that no matter who you are or what you look like, there is someone out there who would trade their two least-favorite limbs and an internal organ to be named later for the opportunity to have sex with you. They may not be people you want to have sex with, but they're out there.
And finally, a thank you to NessieMonster. You know what you did. :)
No, this one was strange mainly due to content. He was aiming to hire an assistant for a circus act he's developing, and that always leads you to ask some interesting questions. "Are you aiming to incorporate kicking and punching into your act?" for instance, or, "Would I be standing on your face barefoot or do you want me wearing dance shoes?"
He is very emphatic that this is not fetish work, and at this point I am satisfied that it isn't. Let's be real here: At this point, I would not care if it were, so long as he knew what boundaries were and kept his hands to himself. Technically, I've already done some, hence my observation that the foot fetish people have always been very polite to me. (Ladies' US 6/Euro 36, with long toes. Apparently this is A Look. Who knew?) Although, playing devil's advocate, if it were a fetish thing, I'd be demanding at least a triple-digit hourly. Kinky emotional labor is expensive.
I don't know if I have the gig, and if I do, I don't know when it will start, since as with all weird art work it depends on the schedules of the other people he's hiring. So I have no idea if/when I will have money again, which means no rats for Ratsgiving this year because I can't make the adoption fee for Mainely, not that I know whether I'd have an adequate Rat Mommy score. (The cage I have is technically a wee bit small for four, although in practice they also have the roof and the top of the cage stand to run around on. I've never had a problem before -- even the vets who have to put down the dying ones comment that they look well-cared for -- but who knows with a rescue agency.) I'm not even sure if I'll get a Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, there's food in the house, I'll get a dinner, it just might be macaroni and cheese out of a box.
Every so often I consider going into financial domination. It's a hell of a lot of self-promoting and improv acting work, but if some super rich dude gets his jollies from being ordered to call Spain and buy me some goddamn flamenco shoes, then fine. There's probably someone sitting at home tonight wanking to the glimpse he caught of my hair at the T stop this afternoon, anyway. If the internet has taught me anything, it's that no matter who you are or what you look like, there is someone out there who would trade their two least-favorite limbs and an internal organ to be named later for the opportunity to have sex with you. They may not be people you want to have sex with, but they're out there.
And finally, a thank you to NessieMonster. You know what you did. :)
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