Have to stop thinking. I went out the door this morning with two interviews in my sights. Thinking the first one was just a warm-up, a dog. Just some light sparring before the main event.

Surprise! The first place took my doors off. I was blown away. I am a sucker for elegant office space and co-workers who aren’t dressed like pirates. It was huge and impeccably laid out. Everyone looked coherent and actually happy.

I felt like calling the next outfit and telling them to take the afternoon off.

Didn’t hurt that this first place had the state of Arizona tied up in contracts and they’re staffing up to meet demands. You could smell the money.

The interview went very well, I thought. For me, they’re not interviews, I prefer to call them performances.

If I could get paid to interview, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

After that, I left with a new angst. (Like I need another) I wanted this gig. Oy!

I hit the next target approximately an hour later. The one I originally thought was the prize. It was OK, but no cigar.

Like a bad love triangle, they wanted me like I wanted the other guys. Anyway, at this point, I was warmed up and just happen to love the sound of my own voice, so I went for the fence.

Most places will tell you they’ll call you after they make a decision. Not today.

After my performance, the guy leans over and says. “You gotta work here Bob, whaddya say, you in?” Then he slides a paper cup wrapped in plastic over to me and motions towards the men’s room.

Oh, by the way, I also like being pursued.

I think.