The receptionist asked if I wanted anything to drink while I was waiting.

I’m fine, thanks. If I drink anything more, I may burst.

She goes back to what she was doing, and I continue to sit there in eagerness. My knee is shaking up and down in nervousness, and even though the office is cool, I can feel beads of sweat forming at my brow.

“Steve Ryan?”

I look up and nod at the young woman who just stepped from the office to page me.

“Come on in.”

It’s a nice office, the young woman tells me to sit, that he will be right in to see me. I place my resume in my my lap so it doesn’t get wrinkled while I wait. I have been very protective of it, and I want it to be as crisp as possible when I hand it to whomever interviews me.

I worked my ass off on this resume. It’s impressive, to say the least.

He walks in, and I stand up from my chair to shake his hand and introduce myself.

“Sit down, please.”

He doesn’t even shake my hand, he grabs for my resume and immediately starts glancing it over. We haven’t even made eye contact yet. I know why he is being so forward, there are a lot of applicants, and he doesn’t have time to waste getting to know individuals with no chance.

It seems like he looks it over for about 3 hours, and then he finally speaks.

“Wow. Very impressive.”

Thank you.

“I’m not going to lie, some of your qualifications are exactly what we are looking for. If possible, could you do a second interview after this if we needed be?

Yes. Oh my, yes. Of course! Anything.

He then starts listing off my accolades from the resume, a small excited smile is forming on his face as he goes through them.

“Fired from at least 5 jobs in your life?”

Yes, Sir.

“Walked off of at least 10 jobs without giving notice?”

Yes.

“Longest job held was for only 2 years?”

Yes, Sir.

“On that job what terms did you leave on?”

Fired, Sir

“Hot damn! Wow. That’s incredible.”

I am getting tired of saying, “Thank you” but say it again anyways.

“Problem with authority and responsibility?”

Of course.

“…and for how long has that been?”

All my life, Sir.

“You’re kidding? Wow. We don’t get experience like that lately. You are old school for sure, Steven. Is it Steve or Steven?”

Whatever you want.

“Any DUI’s?”

Yes.

“On any medication?”

I need anti-depressants more than oxygen.

“Splendid. On your references, if I call them they can vouch for you? How do you know some of them?”

Most are friends, but if you call Mike, he is the millionaire I didn’t know whom I fell asleep on his property intoxicated.

“We check this stuff, you better not be smudging or exagerrating, Mr. Ryan.”

Oh, I’m not, Sir.

“Impressive. Goddamn impressive. Any college experience?”

A few semesters, but I failed my last one.

“Perfect.”

I can feel that this interview is going great. My leg stops shaking, and I loosen up, getting less nervous.

“Ever had any suicidal thoughts?”

Yes, Sir.

“Whew, good. Haha, most of the people we get in here we lose on that question. It’s an important one.”

Really?

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Steve. Okay, I’m gonna throw out some key phrases and I want you to tell me what you think the minute you hear them. Okay?”

Got it.

“Airplane food.”

What’s the deal with it??!! Am I right??

“Mmmhmm, um, Black and white people?”

They couldn’t be more different!?

“Good. The male erection.”

The best subject to talk about. Ever.

He practically dances in his chair from excitement, I sit and watch as he presses the page button on his intercom and says,

“Julia, cancel the rest of the interviews. We found what we’re looking for. Okay Steve, I’m gonna send you in to perform for our boss. It’ll be your final interview and if you nail it, you’re in. You ready? Keep it under 10 minutes.”

Got it.

I move to the next boardroom where an audience of about 100 people are waiting for me. This is the boss. The head honcho. If I impress them…I’m in.

I start telling my jokes.

Some land. Most don’t.

My confidence level starts slipping and makes my voice crack and I start pacing.

I’m bombing this interview.

It was going so well.

I finish my set.

As I sit in the waiting room, I fumble my thumbs back and forth, awaiting someone to burst through the door and tell me the news. Did I get it? Did I not?

Finally, the young receptionist comes through the door, looks at me and says-

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Ryan. We will be sending you a letter.”

-FUCK-

But, I’m qualified? I have all the characteristics needed?

A letter?

• That’s a ‘no.’
• It’s a ‘try again later.’
• Thank you for your application.
• Please apply again at a later date.
• You mention boners way too much, even for us.
• Have you ever thought of applying at a car wash?

The background is there for what I want to do, but the comedy needs work.

The delivery.

The style.

It needs work.

I finally receive the letter:

Dear Mr. Ryan,

It is with deep regret to inform you we have already filled the position of “Professional Stand Up Comic.” It was a very difficult decision, and we feel we made the right choice with someone that was more qualified with an audience. However, we have decided to offer you an intern position at local clubs and open mics in our mail room if you choose. This position would let you gain the experience you need, and maybe eventually, even allow you to apply again for the job of being a professional. Please contact our HR department and let us know if you are interested within 48 hours of receiving this letter. Once again we look forward to hearing from you, and hope you join our team. Thank you, 

Audience.

I know I’m qualified, I just need to start at the bottom and work my way up to gain experience…so naturally, I accept the job, I’ll let you know when I’m CEO.