I Want To Be A Princess


Well, it finally happened.

I got a blog post idea and I thought would be funny. I was just now sitting on my deck and kind of sketching the idea out in my head. Then I thought “Well, fuck. I can’t write that.”

I wanted to write a 100% honest job interview transcript. I was going through strengths and weaknesses. In my head the interview was hilarious. I realized that as an employed person who may one day desire to be employed elsewhere, I might not want to give 100% honest answers to those questions where they could be found with a simple internet search.

Note to current and future employers: Haha! I’m just kidding. I’m not weird. I promise. Nothing to see here. Go read a dry trade journal or something. Shoo.Β 

I’m not worried, I mean, who has ever given a completely honest job interview? It’s crownnotΒ  just me. Right? I’m nearly positive about this, but now I’m second guessing. Dammit. Now, I have to think of something funny and not damning about strengths and weaknesses just in case.

I’m still not writing the post, though. Sure, I’ll write about mental illness and shitty childhoods, but divulge my real, honest to goodness strengths and weaknesses? Until the “buckets of money” fairy shows up, I’ll just have to keep that shit to myself.

I will tell you this story, though.

I’ve written a few times about my mother-in-law, Bonnie. I adored Bonnie. I haven’t had many “safe places” in my life, but she is one of them. I miss her like mad.

When she was ill and dying, the company I worked for was in the process of being sold. I could see the writing on the wall. Shit was not going to end well. I wasn’t going to wait around to the inevitable end and be stuck in a tiny town in the middle of Ohio with no possible job prospects. We had to go. So, while making many weekend trips to visit Randy’s mom, I was also actively job hunting.

I interviewed with a place that manufactured stuff for animal hospitals. At that point, I still thought I wanted to stay in management and the job was for an IT director, which was my title at the time.

Let me interject here. I am so goddamn glad I had the realization that I fucking hated being a manager before accepting any jobs. I love people. I do. Mostly, I love people in theory. Mostly, not in practice. I also hate being a manager. You can’t give sarcastic answers when they complain about stupid shit. Laughing and rolling your eyes is frowned upon. You have to hold that shit in. I spent five years feeling like I might explode.Β 

Anyway, life was a horror show during that time. Life was sad, painful, and exhausting. A week before Bonnie died, I took Randy to his mother’s house and returned home without him. He and his sisters were going to be there around the clock. At the time, we thought it would be around 30 days. It ended up being 8.

I made the 6 hour trip home alone and during that trip, I had a phone interview.

I probably don’t have to say that my head was not in the right place for a job interview, right?

I did it though. They asked the same fucking questions that we all hear in job interviews. I dislike many of the questions. The one I loathe over all others is this one: Where do you see yourself in five years?

Motherfucker. Do I look like I have a TARDIS? Give me a goddamn time machine and I’ll just go and see where I’ll be in five years. Where do I see myself? Hopefully on a sandy beach where pleasant looking young men are bringing me alcohol in coconut shells.

What I said was this: I hate this question. It’s pointless. So, here’s my answer. In five years, I want to be a princess.

Not only did I get a second interview, I ended up getting a job offer. The money was more than I had ever made, significantly more. Then, they got to the work schedule. 6 days a week and 4 hours every other Sunday. Oh, and those six days? 9 to 10 hours a day.


I turned down their money, their insane work schedule, and thought “just be a programmer again. You’re not getting any younger and people aren’t getting less annoying.”

I don’t know what the point is, other than to offer you job search help. If you interview during a time of pain and grieving, you might end up doing really well.

I’m also still not a princess. And it’s been over five years.

This is bullshit.

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  • They have Princess crowns at Walmart in a delightful price range.
    And you can get the wands for 4 for a dollar.
    The only person not calling you a Princess is you.
    Princess Lisa

  • I have reached my boiling point at work. I talked to my husband and he knows the possibility exists that I will just give two weeks notice at any time, with no other job in sight. It’s that bad. And during this last month of IDGAF, things have improved significantly. When I ask my boss about an email I sent and his answer is, “Yeah, I saw that” as if he should get points for that, I respond “Well, you also need to answer it”. I have been like that for a month and it has been glorious.

  • “Laughing and rolling your eyes is frowned upon. You have to hold that shit in. I spent five years feeling like I might explode.”

    Well thank goodness you didn’t say anything that might ruin any job prospects. And truly…those are the main qualifications for the princess job too aren’t they?

  • On paper I look great. Been a manager for 6 years, before I lost it, (belly laugh emoji here) and I’ve been a VP of Operations for an aerospace company with parts on the space shuttle. No lie. That lasted until the President asked me a question about our future and I answered truthfully. They went bankrupt and defunct after I quit which is what I had told her.

    Management sucks. I got my own semi and drove solo for a trucking company. My wife joined me but did not drive. She was my naviguesser and took her job seriously. She did a great job. Long story.

    Point is, now that I’m ‘retired’ I didn’t realize how much I missed about life. I can go anywhere, do anything anytime I want.

    My anxiety and paranoia keep me home. I haven’t had a personal visitor in 9 years. B-) No one to bug me. People aren’t my favorite species anyway.

    Your answer to where you’re going to be in five years seems reasonable. I see myself doing what I do now, albeit in a newer Cadillac. Love my Caddy. I’ll be trading it in in August next year.

    My wife is my driver. Thank god. Good driver but I want to get her in a driving course that forces her to break the tires loose. Only 338 HP but it’s quick and fast with a 3.20 differential.

    I’m getting all mechanical and shit. I’m trying to say that I don’t want to be a princess or prince. Teresa looks elegant getting into the car. I look like a fat fucker that she picked up down at the mission. I grin about it.

    • Well, my friend, looks don’t mean shit. People are just people. πŸ™‚

      I also have no idea what you are talking about with the car stuff. I don’t know much about cars other than how to work the pedals, steering wheel and stereo.

  • All hail Princess Michelle! You’re already there…as Lisa K said, you’re the only one who doesn’t know it. Frankly, though, I think you should aim for something higher up the food chain, like Empress of the World. That way you can whip the entire globe into shape. Somebody’s got to, and with your exquisitely low threshold for bullshit, you’d be great at it.

    • I would love to be empress of everything. First order of business…3 day weekends and foot rubs for everyone. Unless you hate foot rubs and WANT to work extra. There are always weirdos. Weirdos are people too.

      • I also have always wanted to be a Empress rather than a Princess. I’m more an
        “off with your head, you’ll do whatever I effing tell you to do and you’ll do it quickly” kind of woman. Shit. I got bored in retirement so went back into a totally different line of work. It has been great, mostly. Except for the people part.

        And if I ever have another job interview and am asked the question about where I see myself in 5 years, I’m stealing the line above – I’ll just say, “doing pretty much what I’m doing now, but in a newer Cadillac” – or BMW or whatever. Not a car person, drive a 10 year old Toyota but I love the thought behind that. I’m nearly 64 years old, I’m smart and I work very hard but as Popeye always said, “I yam what I yam!”

        I love this post and all the comments here.

  • Hardy ha GUFAWW! Freakin’ hilarious! Listening to you made me realise why management does nt really work for me, I guess we are just a bit too honest after all that repression with The Narc Family…fair flippin’ play to us I say! xxxx

  • Somehow we are sisters. Princess Sisters. There was a time when we would have taken the job with the high salary and insane work hours. We don’t need to do that anymore. Once I broke the glass ceiling and all I got was hair full of glass and a hand on my ass. I’ll be over to your castle at 4:00 for laughter and libations.

    • Which is PERFECT because I get off work at 4.

      Yes, there was a time when I would have taken that job. Now? In job interviews, I am very clear, I do not desire to work over 40 hours a week. Certainly, if there are issues or an upgrade or something, that is the exception..but not all the time. Nope.

      I will have the glasses chilled. πŸ™‚

  • You are positively cracking me up! Now I’m trying to think of what I’ll say at my next interview about what I want to be in 5 years: An astrounaut? A backup dancer for Beyonce? A clown? No, definitely not a clown. Anything but that. Anyway, thanks for encouraging us all to embrace what matters and forget the rest.

  • It feels terrible but I envy you. I envy you because I’ve been in the same job, even the same cubicle, for sixteen years. And the same office suite for twenty-three years. I haven’t been on the seeker’s side of a job interview for nearly two decades although I have taken part in some very interesting ones. For instance there was the guy who complained bitterly about having to work with a bunch of women at his last job.
    He didn’t notice that the main person interviewing him was a woman, that most of the people in the office where the interview was taking place were women, or that the question he’d just been asked was, “What’s your greatest strength?”
    I shouldn’t envy you because I know things have been hard for you while the most genuinely terrible thing I’ve had to deal with at work that I can think of off the top of my head is the co-worker who had a problem with people talking loudly and interrupting her nap.
    And it’s not just envy. I also wish we could trade places temporarily just so you could get a break.
    I get the reasons for not sharing it with us but I hope you wrote that job interview down anyway. Someday maybe you can share it.

  • I have to conduct interviews at my job sometimes. I hate it. I hate it more than interviewing when I am the one trying to get a job.

    They might as well be speaking a language I don’t know.

    All I’m doing the whole time is thinking, “Would I enjoy working with this person?”

  • OMG, what a perfect answer. And this: β€œjust be a programmer again. You’re not getting any younger and people aren’t getting less annoying.”

    My ex SIL asked me that exact question when I left her brother. I answered her by saying: “Not here.”

  • Well, shit, NOW you tell me!!! I should have been interviewing and getting a resume together these last 11 months? I will say that I managed to get some things taken care of because you’re right, when you’re in the worst pain of your life, all flowery language and the usual bullshit goes right out the window and you are driving straight to the heart of the matter. You tire of fucking bullshit FAST.

    One thing I have to add! When you talked about how you must behave as a manager? That memo must not have reached this one manager who (whom??) I interviewed with back in the late 80s. At the end of the interview, she said that I would have to pass a drug test. I answered that I had no problem with that, as I didn’t do drugs. She had the unmitigated gall to say to me, “Yeah, that’s what they ALL say until they fail.” I was like “WTF???” but being still so young and wanting to be “polite”, I just looked at her and said that I was telling the truth. I got the job, but during my first week there, this same manager asked me to go pick up her lunch at McDonalds when I went out for some supplies. She handed me money and said “the change comes back to ME, not your pocket”. I must have glared at her or something because she did get a shocked look on her face. I quit at the end of that day. What a fucking BITCH!

    • It’s always sad when someone has dealt with so many asshole idiots that they automatically lump you in with them.

      I HAVE to tell MY boss that.

      You were right to listen to your gut and not make any more excuses for her being a bit too ‘cautious.’ Sad part is, usually we DO act that way after we get fucked one time to many by that exact happening, however, if it bothered her that badly and she was so paranoid about the ‘details,’ she should have attended to them herself.


      *pats Tinks’s hand*

      I wrote a recommendation letter for a coworker that used generalities and innuendos, but no hard examples. I said she ‘possesses’ the skills, not uses them. But I can’t flat lie… and if she gets the other job I won’t have to make excuses for her and ‘fix’ her work anymore either…

      fucking conundrum, it is.

      • Thank you for that, Lisa! Honestly though, when you are supposed to be a professional, you should be able to handle the assholes without leveling sarcastic accusations at innocent people interviewing for a job. I can’t tell you how it felt for me to pretty much be accused of lying when she had only just met me five minutes before. Shocked, is one way to put it. I gave her a pass then, but like you said, after her remark about the change, I realized this was probably the way I would be spoken to for the rest of my time on that job. I would have ended up fired anyway, because she only would have treated me that way for so long before I finally had enough and verbally nailed her ass to the wall. So, you know—it all works out in the end! Haha!
        *blithely waves wand through the air and flutters wings*

  • “You’re not getting any younger and people. ..” oh man M ain’t that the truth. I don’t know whether to paint that on my walls or just mutter it while I drive. Cuz that’s the truth about life in a nutshell. Merci buckets, my American guru.

  • I haven’t really had that many job interviews. I usually got hired through knowing someone who worked there, and the interviews were minimal. My last job had one, and I aced it by opining that the buyer was a crucial position in that sort of business, and it turned out that the guy interviewing me was indeed the buyer.
    I sucked at management. I’m labor, damn it! I did participate in some job interviews when I was a warehouse manager, some of which were hilarious. Like one guy who listed among his warehouse skills “shrink warping and pellitizing” freight…
    Do be careful of long hours and stress. I used to have a “take all the hours you can get” approach, as at time and a half I was almost getting paid what I was worth. I had two employers take that idea and run with it. The first one was OK, but I found that although there were four numbers to the left of the decimal on my paycheck for the first time in my life, there wasn’t really any time to enjoy it when the workdays were twelve hours long.
    Three months into the second bout of ten to thirteen hour days (during the sale of the company with all the added stress of a relaunch and a merger thrown in for giggles) I had a stroke, and haven’t worked since. I was 47 years old.
    My favorite answer to an interview question was to “what do you see as your greatest weakness?” to which I replied “I’ve had bosses tell me that I’m too meticulous” which at the time was code for “I’ll mostly be really wired at work”. It didn’t go over very well.

  • Ha ha ha, I don’t think your blog would cause you an issue. If it does, you didn’t want to work there anyway, as they obviously have no sense of humour and probably think ‘blue sky thinking’ is an acceptable thing to say, ever, which it isn’t and should be punishable by electric shock.
    At least you don’t have a CV that scares employers to death. I don’t need a blog to do that, just being me is enough.

  • I was training to be an SSI Claims Rep when my father suddenly died. I took 3 days off. 3!
    When I came back I was given a choice of two offices to work in permanently–horrible and worse hoods.
    I asked if I could have the weekend to think about it.
    “No we need your answer tomorrow.”
    “Really? My father died five days ago.” (Late Sunday night)
    “Yes and if you had been at work on Monday you would have had five days to think about the answer.”
    I, being relatively–in a manner of speaking–sane–just stared at them. It took two men to ask me these questions.
    I should have said but “I’m a Princess. Princesses take their time answering.”
    When I left 3 years later the district manager wanted me to stay something fierce. She asked for all the reasons I was leaving. All the reasons? Did she want a book? I began with training, my father’s death and feeling so pressured at a time I should have been home mourning.
    “You loved your father?” True question.
    “Nah, I hated him. Of course I loved him.” I actually said that.
    I had been in the first external training class since Reagan tried to dismantle SSA and Bush One actually tried to put it back together. I should have said: “I’ll wait for the next training class. I’m a princess in mourning.” But I didn’t.

  • Two points. First, you are a princess. I actually know a princess. You have all the qualities. Especially the attitude. Although maybe you don’t ride horses? Second, the answer to the “five year” question is: If you hire me, where do you see me in five years’ time?

  • Hahaha!! So funny. Once again, laughed out loud, annoying my serious, republican husband as we drove side by side in the car. I gotta read you alone in dark room or I’m afraid he’ll start to dislike you!

  • I just went through the interview process for a new job, and I got that dreaded five year question. I simply made it clear that management wasn’t my idea of fun – move me sideways. He was happy with that. I had to do a presentation as well. This was unnerving. Then I was given 15 minutes to write a business proposal. The whole interview lasted two hours. My brain was fried.

By Michelle

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