I just got a job interview at the Silver Snail, tomorrow at seven. If I get this, I’d probably work one night a week and at least one weekend day. I’d be able to grossly overindulge myself in graphic novels with my new-found discount. I’d be in comic book heaven. I’m so excited I could pee my pants, if it weren’t for my exceptional bowel control.
Now I’m kind of nervous. What if Steph doesn’t like me? I could be too geeky, or – heaven help me – not geeky enough. What if the interview involves probing questions that delve into some of the terrifying specifics of early Fantastic Four or Spiderman comics? What if I blank out and can’t remember who Doctor Octopus is? What if I say something too sassy and sarcastic and she thinks I’m a bitch? What if I AM a bitch?
Maybe I should just hide in my cubicle. I’m an old woman of 25 now, no longer cut out for the rough and tumble life of a retail sales clerk on Queen Street. Maybe I should calm down and get a grip.