Tales from an interview

My interview was today. You know, the one for the promotion I was supposed to get. MMMyea, that one. It was two hours long (I don't even remember my original job inerview being that long), included an editing test (because clearly my boss doesn't see me edit on a daily basis), questioning from the co-worker I've so flatteringly named Jabba the Hutt (for her ungainliness and lack of neck) as well as two other members of management who barely spoke a word to me before seeing that I had a master's degree. Swell.

When one saw my publication listing, he said (insert face of one who's just tasted a Warhead for the first time), "What is that?"

"It's a literary journal," I replied. He said he'd never heard of the publication. Yes, buttchunk, that is because you are a technical person, not a literary person. It doesn't make the journal, or my publication in it, any less valid.

I do think my general artsy-ness and pierced tongue probably didn't fare well, though. I'm sorry. I am just not an oxford shirt and Dockers kind of gal. I did, however, wear an outfit from Banana Republic. Doesn't that count for something on the corporate scale of suck-up?