The Tell-Tale, Um, Heart

My interview is tomorrow morning; and, horribly, Robbie has reminded me that I have a certain obligation - sort of a debt of honor, if you will. When he interviewed for his current position, a woman we know told him she'd pay him $5 if he called in with the shits.

He earned that $5.

So at some point I laughingly promised to make a tradition of it, and do the same, if I ever got an interview. Hell, I'd never gotten one yet. I never thought it would really happen!

Okay. The terms of the deal don't say I have to be graphic. But I do have to do it. I'm more nervous about this than the interview, frankly.

Oh, and I've been suffering huge whomping glups of guilt all day. I just got a really good review. And one of the top-level division bigwigs, who has to sign off on it, sent me such a nice email telling me that upper management (with whom, unlike most of the others in my area, I often work directly) are very happy with the work I've been doing. He said they also like my sense of humor. I got all misty.

The panicmonger was obviously excited to be able to do something good for me. She said I needed to bring in doughnuts to celebrate my time there. Meanwhile, the staffing situation in our area isn't getting any better: Bitching Bubbly Nonsmoker has no-called and no-showed for two days running, which can't be good. The candidate to whom the PM offered Robbie's old job backed out, so she has to start the whole interminable hiring process over, even assuming she can get the posting approved again. The three newbies - well, frankly I'm kind of surprised they're still there (hello! what is with you people??); but I'm sure one of these days I'll turn around and they'll be gone.

Frankly, I feel like shit for even thinking about another job. But I suppose that feeling will come in handy when I call in tomorrow.