Countdown

Less than an hour to go before I am away to my pre-interview. I must dazzle and impress and right this minute all I want to do is toss my cookies.

Nerves, you see.

I fear I'll show up at Cindy's office all ashen, with bloodshot eyes and a shaky constitution. I will leave a thin film of nervous sweat on her palm when I attempt to shake her hand with some semblance of confidence and she will spend the rest of our time together finding ways to wipe it off without seeming to be obvious. She will know within the first five minutes that I do not possess the ability to act in any sort of managerial capacity and when I leave, she will make a short notation on the upper right corner of my resume. "NSM" or some sort of brief code that tells the other recruiters in the office to keep on moving as they approach my file in future.

My body is poised to betray me yet again.