February 8, 2001

I am so tired. Job interviews always do that to me-- I get so tense and nervous, that when the interview's over, I'm exhausted.

The New Times appointment this morning wasn't an interview like I thought, but a 5 page proofreading test. Yay, fun. I knew a test was coming when I made the appointment on Tuesday, so I found a website that night that had all the proofreading symbols and abbreviations on it. Oddly enough, I never learned this stuff formally in school, so I had to teach it to myself. I'm pretty good at spotting out errors in other people's work, just not my own. ;)

Anyway, the test was this silly story about this guy from Hong King named Chiang Chung or something, who made kung fu movies that were very popular in Hong Kong, but when he came to America, he was no longer famous, and was forced to become a busboy at a restaurant to earn a living. Finally, he scraped up some money from his family members and opened up his own restaurant.

As I was reading it, I was like, "What the FUCK is this?" It didn't help that this guy was talking to his mother on the phone one cubicle away from me, louder than all hell itself. Still, I concentrated my ass off, reading the story four times, recording when I started proofreading (11:50 am) and when I ended (1:05 pm) on the sheet. The sheet's instructions said it should take at least an hour, so that wasn't bad. When I was done, I turned it in to some girl who informed me that the editor would call me if I did ok on the test. Even though I'm pretty happy with how I did, who knows? I'm just not counting on call-backs anymore. It's not worth the hoping and wondering and worrying, just to get nothing back. This job-hunting can make one very negative.