Here's a new strip that covers something I mentioned a while ago, the collateral effects of our new robot governor. I wonder what Arnold's signature looks like. Will it be in crayon? Will he use superfluous umlauts? All the more reason to rocket myself toward graduation. Well, that and the money.
Interview season is thankfully winding to a close, and I have an offer, god damn it, so the pressure is off. Two more interviews left and it'll be a miracle if I'm sober for either of them. Especially considering that one firm doesn't even want me to wear a suit. Can we say Pantsless Interview Wednesday? I think we can, oh, I think we can.
I once met a bartender who told me that he hated bartending, but he'd much rather tend bar for the rest of his life than go out and find another job. They say that when cats chase mice it's not the having, it's the getting. Well, when it comes to employment it's definitely the having for me. I hate job interviews. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that I don't have to face Spring OCI. Anyone who has met me just once or twice can attest to the fact that I'm not the warmest bun in the oven when it comes to making first impressions, and convincing dozens of attorneys that I'm the kind of person they'll enjoy spending twelve hours a day with in thirty minutes or less has proven to be quite the challenge. Exacerbating this innate personality flaw is my recently-developed tendency to have asthma attacks after three or four interviews. So as my lungs begin to close my affability decreases even more, and after I sneak an inhaler blast the adrenaline makes me jittery. In short, I'm a recruitment fucking train wreck.
And this train just derailed. I'm off to study.