Don't Hit Snooze!

I anxiously watch as the traffic light changes from green, to yellow, to red for the third time in a row. My little run-down car has not moved an inch.

I finally got called for an interview! After months of sending resumes and waiting, and waiting, and waiting…

Two days ago, my cell phone rang, and someone named Dana Stone said I had an interview today at 8 am with HR Manager, Mr. Soft.

Mr. Soft? Really? Wasn’t Mr. Softee the name of an ice-cream truck? I remembered the little jingle in my head from when I was growing up.

Mr. Soft and Mr. Softee! Close enough! Hilarious! I wonder if he looks like the Pillsbury boy or maybe like an ice cream cone.

But excited as I was to finally get an interview, I dared to hit the snooze button on my alarm this morning. Just nine more minutes! Which actually became eighteen minutes because I hit it twice. Who does that on interview day? Idiot! IDIOT!!!   

You’d think if they were going to invent something as tempting as a snooze button, it would be a short three-minute luxury, but noooo… they went and turned it into a nine-minute event which of course screws up your whole timing. And if you dare to hit the damn thing twice then you’re really in trouble.  

So now I was running late (eighteen minutes late!). The traffic light changes again. Damn it! I need this job! I’d been looking for too long and had recently applied to a job way below my qualifications.

As the weeks have gone by, I have changed my slogan from “aim high” (at graduation) to “start low, climb high” (at the beginning of my job search) to “take whatever they offer” (my current status).

“Please God, let me get there on time.” The stress is growing. I loosen my tie. I turn on the radio. I turn off the radio. Tic-toc, tic-toc. I feel the sweat start to prickle all over my body. I’m glad I wore a t-shirt underneath my dress shirt. Hopefully, I’m covered! I ironed the shirt so carefully last night. Making sure I was all pressed and neat for the occasion. All my hopes sky rocketing. I need this job!

Christ! Why did I hit the snooze button?

Green. Yellow. Red. Green. Yellow. Red. The black coffee I drank an hour ago in my tiny apartment is burning a hole in my chest. I suddenly feel an urgency to pee. I look at the car beside me and it’s a young woman looking as nervous as I feel, biting her nails. “Late, much?” I ask her in my mind.

Can she be going to the same interview? Shit! I need to move!

A few cars move forward and the guy behind me starts blowing his horn like a maniac. I really have to control myself to keep from sticking up my middle finger at him. A fist fight now will not help me!

The cars stop again and yet another colorful cycle begins. I’m hyperventilating. I'm sweating.

I look at the clock on my dashboard again. I’ll never make it! I shouldn’t have hit that snooze button. Why did they invent such a tempting option? What was the point? Who doesn’t hit snooze?

I’ll never hit snooze again! If I get this job, I will never, ever hit snooze. I promise!

I suddenly remember a riddle my dad used to tell me: “What happens when beans get late to work?”

Eight-year-old me would stare back at him, without an inkling.

“They get canned” he’d say and roar with laughter. “Always be on time!”.

Lesson learned dad!

The cars slowly creep forward. Only two cars make it across the traffic light. I finally see the building! I count the windows. My interview is on the fourteenth floor. I look at the clock. 7:52. Eight minutes left! Is it possible that I might make it after all? I decide to park my car on a side street and jog the rest of the way, instead of using the building parking lot. It has got to be a faster option. There’s still a chance!

I put on my signal light and make a right turn, onto a side street. I look around desperately but there is no available space. Tic-toc, tic-toc, four minutes to go.

Finally, like a miracle, a guy pulls out. I can’t believe my luck! I park, jump out of my car, and start jogging.

I walk in the building at exactly 7:59 am. I tell a security guard my name. He checks a list and announces me. “Please take a seat.” he says.

“May I use the rest room?” I ask. He shows me where it is.

I get to the rest room and take the longest pee of my life and splash some water on my face. I then decide to remove my sweat soaked t-shirt. I dare to sniff my underarms, but luckily my deodorant has kicked in and I actually don’t smell bad and the actual dress shirt is pretty much sweat free. Thank God For little miracles. I put the shirt back on, straighten my tie and hair and take a few deep breaths. I stuff the sweat soaked t-shirt in my shoulder bag. I look good as new!

“I’m always very punctual” I say to myself sarcastically and give myself a little thumbs-up in the mirror as I dry my face. I feel refreshed, ready for my interview.

I go back to the waiting area, and I swear, not 30 seconds later, Dana Stone comes in and says “Mr. Soft will see you now, please follow me”. She walks me to an elevator and presses button 14. Wow! Talk about the nick of time! I’m suddenly feeling very lucky.

And somehow, deep inside, I know that I will get this job; and I also know that tomorrow I will hit that snooze button again. Twice.

Lessons learned? ZERO!!!

Sorry dad.