Well, technically, it happened on Monday.
I woke up Monday morning to go to an internship interview. As I laid in bed, allowing myself the chance to get used to being awake again, I knew something was amiss. Writing it off to nerves and the chili nachos I had eaten the night before, I made my way to the bathroom to begin my morning routine. Then, in spite of how much I despise it and try to avoid it at all costs, I got sick. (Too much information? Sorry.)
Then I Googled “calling in sick to an interview” to see if anybody had ever written anything about this before. They hadn’t really. I found one Yahoo! answers or something of the like, but most of the stuff was about calling in “sick” to one job to interview for a new one. For the first time in a long time, Google failed me.
Plagued with the dilemma of calling in or not, I was stuck. Would they be willing to reschedule? Would they think me unreliable? I had no idea how many other applicants they had or what their flexibility was or if I would get sick again. After a couple of phone calls home to get some advice, the consensus was in– unless I felt 100% positive that I would puke all over the desk of my interviewer, I was going to that interview.
I went. The interview happened. I wasn’t my best, but I wasn’t my worst. (Don’t ask. I’m not ready to talk about my worst).
On my way home, after stopping for some Ginger Ale and Pepto Bismol, I found myself singing this song:
Often when I sing to myself, I don’t even realize that I’m doing it, let alone what song I’m singing. When I finally became conscious of the song that I was singing, I had to laugh a little. Something special had certainly happened that day, but I don’t know that I’d compare it to hitting only green lights.
UPDATE: Green lights or none, I got the internship!
ANOTHER UPDATE: I will never eat chili nachos again.