It’s Spelled S-T-R-E-S-S

July 19, 2011

Yesterday was a day I will soon not forget. A real trying experience I tell you!

Behold my story!

Yesterday was the day of my job interview for a local high school. I was pretty amped about it because it’s close, cool, and (most importantly) might have a position made for me. I’ve known about it for a week, and haven’t let it get to me. I’ve remained pretty calm and collected. I was still excited, but I wasn’t panicking, so that was good.

I decide to wake up early (that’s read as 9 o’clock) because my interview isn’t until 2 p.m.. So, I wake up, relax, eat a small breakfast, and begin preparing for my interview. I start running through practice questions in my mind, think about my teaching philosophies/experiences, and go over my resume and reference letters. And i’m liking what my brain is telling me. If I were interviewing me, I would give me a shot.

Overall, I’m still feeling pretty good. I’m not pacing around like I usually do.

I must also mention, I’m the only person home, and we’ve had an air conditioning emergency. There is no cold air in my home because some sort of leak is causing the freeon (magical cooling fluid) to not be in my A/C unit. So, even though I am a little muggy as I try to get dressed, I’m still feeling alright. That’s only a little stressful. Like a 3 out of 10.

But I walk out of the door forgetting one thing.

My Chapstick.

I always need Chapstick because I am just one of those guys that doesn’t drink enough water I guess. Or maybe I just don’t drink enough in the morning. Point is, I need it, especially if I need to make sure my two lips don’t look like two dried out salmon. (Horrible image, sorry). And when I meet a new person that could potentially decided to hire me I think Chapstick is a good decision.

For those of you keeping score of my stress level: I have had a no A/C morning (in Florida), Preparing for job interview, and forgot my Chapstick. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would say I’m feeling around a 7. Not good at all. I am pretty stressed, but at least I know it’ll be over soon.

At least I made it to my interview on time.

Next comes the interview. It was a little strange at first but I warmed up and got some good answers in. I felt comfortable asking the principal some questions about the job and the school, and she seemed rather receptive about that. Only problem was that I kept licking my lips in order to make then not look too milky and dry. When I got in my car to drive home I looked in my mirror and realized that I had failed at that.

But at least the interview part well reasonable well. So now my stress level is at 6.

But that’s only the first half kiddies…

(Sorry for calling you kiddie.

The interview ended at 3 p.m.. That gave me enough time to go home, eat, check on the A/C repair, and then pick up my bass for practice at a church that I’m helping out. The practice begins at 5 p.m..

Personal note: I am never late. I hate being late. I WILL be there. Even if I’ve already had a defcon 7 of a day.

I do everything I am supposed to, but decide to not change out of my clothes. I figured I wasn’t going to need to do that, considering all I was going to be doing was playing an instrument and not in front of anybody to boot. I hop in my car and head on down. But maybe a mile from my house, I feel something suspicious and terrible.

My car starts feeling….lumpy. Rumbling. Flappy. I look down at my guages and look for some sign of what is happening. And a little orange tire pressure guage is on.

I have a flat tire.

And that’s it. Today is officially a 9 I think to myself. The stress of my day was supposed to be the interview. At that was it. I was supposed  to enjoy the rest of my evening.

I relize that I have to put on a spare tire. This is totally okay and expected, but I have to do it in my dress clothes. (Didn’t change, remember?). So, I take off my tie, throw all the junk out of my trunk, and begin the very dirty process of changing my tire.

I fumbled around with the world’s worst emergency car jack for about 10 minutes (thanks Toyota). And I still can’t get these lugs off with this hideous excuse for a tire iron. No leverage.

We are at a 9 and 3/4 of a stressful day. I’m going to be late. I have to buy a new tire because this one is beyond patching. The side wall has blown out (which would have been awful had I been going faster than the 35 mph I was doing). And you can’t just buy one new tire, you need at least two. So there goes more money.

I contemplate calling somebody. Maybe just skipping the very important practice entirely and giving up. I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Yes, if I just go home and go to sleep, things will be better.

Then a green truck pulls up. A middle aged dude pops out and says, “Hey man, car problems?”

“Mondays.” is my response.

He laughs and pulls out an awesome tire iron. One with the ability to pull the lugs off of my tire and helps me get this thing done.

After the very kind man (who, I will be honest, smelled a little bit like alcohol) left, I was able to return home and borrow somebody else’s car.

I was only late by 10 minutes.

Stress level down to 2.

That was a pretty long story, so if you read the whole thing here is an internet high five for you.

Sweet

Nailed it!

Thank you for reading a story about my Monday.

Would you like to share a stressful story with me? Feel free to do so in the comment section.

Wishing you a better days than what I just had,

D.A.

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4 Responses to “It’s Spelled S-T-R-E-S-S”

  1. joem18b Says:

    no stress today. but nobody jumping out of their vechicle to help me either, which i would have liked.

    but then, i didn’t jump out of my vechicle to help anybody either. i’ll keep that in mind tomorrow.

    good post.


  2. Can I just say that the image of you (or any man for that matter) wearing dress clothes and changing a tire makes my day. :)

    Hope you got the job.

  3. Frank Bishop Says:

    I got salmonella poisoning on my way to a date, one time, a long time ago. I was spraying from both ends. I would go into more detail but my fiancee sense is tingling and I might get in trouble.


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