Reality Check

Now that the excitement of my debut on "The Chew" has died down, it's time to get back to reality. (Plus, after buying an outfit I didn't get to wear, Mama's got bills to pay!)

On that note, I have an interview tomorrow in Manhattan and though I know I vowed never to cross the Hudson in the name of employment again, I feel like we're running out of options.

Last week, I went for a mani/pedi ahead of my "Chew" appearance. (God, that never gets old!) It was about 4 p.m. and the lady who was tasked with sloughing 5lbs of dead skin off the veritable horse hooves that are my feet asked who was watching my children.

"They're with my husband," I said.

"Oh, he came home early?" she asked.

"Well, actually..." I hit her with our saga, which, much like getting a genital piercing I imagine, never gets less uncomfortable.

At first, her face crumpled and she looked sad. "When did he lose his job?" she asked.

"He was let go in November," I confided.

She shot backward on her little stool on wheels as if a cobra had just burst out of my big toe.

"November???" she repeated, dumbstruck.

All I could think was: This is bad. A woman who rubs other people's bunions for a living is genuinely concerned that my husband is still out of work.

"Oh," was all she said for the rest of the pedicure. She probably didn't want to waste her charms on someone who may be forced to tip in toe nail clippings.

So when I received a call last Thursday asking if I'd like to venture into the Big Apple for a 4-hour on-site interview, what choice did I have?

I'd like to say I'm excited about this new possibility but I feel like I can't trust my judgment. I thought my tech-startup interview went well, and, well, we all know how that turned out. All I know right now is that I have to be on a 7:37 a.m. train (which I recognize isn't awful, I'm just out of practice when it comes to wearing something other than pajamas before 2 p.m.) and I'm going up against "an internal candidate." I wish the "talent coordinator" hadn't told me that part because, is it me, or isn't it always the internal candidate's to lose? Like unless this person is found booting heroin in the executive bathroom, don't they already have it in the bag? Or is that just the months of rejection talking?

Either way, I'll be wearing my interview uniform and I'll keep you posted.


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