I went on an interview, and yada yada yada...

I had an exploratory at a large company today, but I'm not looking to complain about HR or their Fort Knox security. Actually, their HR representative was extremely nice, and had nothing to do with the interview's sorry outcome—that was all me.

My downward spiral probably began the minute I opened my mouth to say hello, but I didn't realize what was wrong with today's meeting, until I had to answer the question, "What is your greatest strength?"

I've heard this question before, so it's not like I couldn't think of an answer. I started talking about my loyalty—I'm loyal to my job, but I'm also loyal to my coworkers...I work hard, because I feel like I owe them my best...I think it's important to have a positive relationship with other staffers.

I paused. Did this last statement make me seem gossip-oriented? An office flirt? Does the term "positive relationship" imply that I've read one too many sexual harassment codes?

So, I backpedaled by saying, "…not that I'm a Chatty Cathy who blabs to coworkers while they're working."

The statement sounded odd coming out of my mouth. First of all, Chatty Cathy is an old doll my mother refers to on a constant basis, which—horror of horrors—means I'm turning into my mother. But then I also realize, I am a Chatty Cathy! I've been talking nonstop ever since I sat down.

Eureka! I can stop trying to figure out what went wrong with all of my interviews, because I finally know why I can't get a job—I talk too much. The gift of gab is something my unfortunate friends and family have to deal with, and it's okay—they have to love me. But I'm worried employers are listening to me drone, and secretly thinking, SHUT UP! By speaking too much, I probably seem like an idiot who wouldn't be able to converse with clients or conduct interviews—after all, interviews are about getting the other person to talk.

Why do I ramble? The minute I shake hands, I want to prove I'm perfect for the job—even if it means talking about my qualifications so much, that I start foaming at the mouth. I only have x amount of time to sell myself, but instead of editing my responses, I talk really fast. I once read that interviews should be a 50/50 share in discussion, but I'm constantly trying to interject a comment or present a clip—and I only say "interject," because if I think back and realize I've been rude by interrupting an editor, I'll never sleep tonight.

Surprisingly, I don't talk much when I do get a job, because I'm a workaholic. The HR rep will never know this focused, professional side of me. Right now, she probably thinks I'm a flake who's better off creating a book on tape instead of a magazine. And just because I'm feeling particularly masochistic today, I keep thinking back on how an editor once told me that I was very eloquent. I used to be proud of that compliment, but now I imagine her at lunch with the HR rep, laughing about my motor mouth, over an expensive meal that I'll never afford.

I can't change how today's meeting went—it's over now. I can only vent to my friends about what might have been...which means I'm talking again, and the vicious cycle begins all over. Anyone out there have duct tape? A muzzle?

Please, tell me I'm not the only one who has this problem!

On the verge of paranoia,
~Ed's Girl

My backstory

I didn't always know I wanted to work in magazines. I was just a college student at a southern state school, who worshipped E! and ransacked the grocery store every Tuesday for new, glossy issues. (And if I couldn't afford InStyle—well, I didn't really need milk and eggs, did I?) I was actually a theatre major at the time, but two years into college, I didn’t want to pursue acting anymore. I didn’t want the life of a celebrity—if I saw myself in a “They’re Just Like Us” spread, inhaling Ben & Jerry’s, I’d probably cry.

I’ve always loved writing, so I tried an Article and Essay course. I was hooked. Unfortunately, my school didn’t offer a Journalism degree, so unless I wanted to transfer, Creative Writing was my best option. But it wasn’t until one of my teachers mentioned she had a friend at Glamour that I thought—people actually work at magazines?!

I applied for internships in New York. I graduated in December without any prospects, but three days into the New Year, I received an email from a literary magazine. I flew up for an interview, but despite how nice the editor was, I knew it wasn’t a good fit for me.

I used the rest of the day to follow-up with other publications, and got lucky—one magazine’s intern coordinator told me to check Ed2010, because a teen magazine had posted an intern spot. I ran across the street to CompUSA, and tried to email the editor—but the site wouldn’t load! So, I went to her office building (yes, I know it was a ballsy move!), and called her voice mail. Fifteen minutes later, I received a call from her intern coordinator to interview in the next half hour.

I knew the minute I walked in the office that I wanted to intern there. Everything clicked—and it didn’t hurt that the internship coordinator was nice, and didn’t laugh in my face when I showed her writing samples, because I didn’t have clips. She scheduled a phone interview for the following Monday with the editor who would be my boss. I was back home by then, working holiday retail, so I hid in the stock room for the length of our conversation…and she offered me the internship.

I was scheduled to start in less than two weeks, but I still needed college credit. I spent the rest of the week contacting advisors at my school, until one of the English professors offered to help. Now, I just had to figure out where to live. I checked on Craigslist, but I wasn’t sure about signing a lease. Instead, I found a few women’s residences on college websites, which seemed like the best option under such short notice.

Luckily, my parents came for my first few days in the city, so I was able to stay with them in a hotel. I called one of the residences that was managed by nuns, and brought my dad to check it out—although he couldn’t look at the rooms, because men weren’t allowed upstairs (which definitely made him happy!). After four years at a party school, this seemed archaic to me, but they had an opening at a reasonable price. I moved in that Saturday, and started my internship Monday.

I was definitely lucky. I had a great boss, a cheap place to live, and a growing list of friends through Ed2010. I went on informational interviews, and I even interviewed for a few EA positions. I sent ideas to editors, and received an assignment at a men’s magazine. And when my internship was over, I worked part-time as a hostess, while still searching for my first EA job. (I later had to quit the restaurant job, but that’s another story for another day.)

So far I’ve interviewed at eight or nine magazines, and all of the editors have been very encouraging. I’m definitely thankful to make so many connections, but when they tell me it was between me and one other candidate (which has happened more than once), I don’t know whether to be hopeful because I was close, or scream because I’ve come in second…again. And when I received four rejections in the past month it was definitely a blow to my self-esteem. (“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride” comes to mind—although, I’ve been told to never use clichés in writing, which could be another reason I’m still unemployed.)

Meanwhile, I’ve started applying as a film extra to make money, and I’m about a hundred bucks away from working retail again. Friends keep telling me I’m overdue for a job, but I’m starting to wonder if it will ever happen. Call me the Susan Lucci of interviews (who I’m very familiar with, now that my afternoons are available for daytime soaps). I read back issues, pitch ideas, and research editors, so I guess I’ll end up where I need to be eventually—maybe just not as quickly as I’d like to get there.

I know you’re probably reading this and thinking, What? Like she’s the only one who has it rough? I’ve been searching for THIS MANY months!—which is kind of the whole point of Ed2010, right? We’re in this search together. (Cue “Kumbaya.”) So, during the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing everything from my job hunt. Respond with your own stories, so this can be an interactive, and not just me blabbing constantly. And if I’m still describing my search come next summer, can somebody shoot me? Okay, or just buy me a large fan? If I have to go through another hot season without A/C, I might just move back to my suburban homeland of strip malls…no thanks.

Stay tuned!
~Ed’s Girl on the Hunt