6 Tricks to Nailing Your Job Interview That No One Ever Taught You

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1. Your Appearance-Buy A Pair Of Fake Glasses

You already know that you need to dress for success (get your suit dry cleaned, polish your shoes and comb your hair). But, if you want to give yourself a quick boost of self confidence and look like an intellectual, go ahead and upgrade your outfit with some thick-framed or wired glasses (whatever gives you the more ‘I’m an authority on this topic’ look). Only you will know those glasses are, well, glass. And besides, it will even give you something to fiddle with during the interview if you’re nervous.

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What Fresh Hell Is This?

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THE PUBIC HAIR PENNY GUY

I sensed something was amidst when a 40-something blonde gent with a glint of crazy in his eyes meandered into the bank holding a large, extravagant chalice. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who sensed it, because the two other tellers working that day scattered like cockroaches when they saw the curiously sweaty man in a stained, white t-shirt walking towards the teller counters.

What fresh hell is this?

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Planning a Wedding? Here are the top 6 reasons to elope

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1. Little to No Stress

The only thing you need to worry about is picking out your wedding dress and shoes. Everything else (the flowers, ceremony location, cake, music, dinner, photos, decorations, your hair and makeup, etc.) is handled by your highly experienced wedding planner. Your wedding planner will hold your hand through the entire process and layout your choices in a simple, organized fashion. And you usually have the option to customize your wedding as well.

You will have so little stress before your wedding that you will have to lie to your friends about how stressed you are.

2. Breathtaking Photos

Imagine the sunset backdrop of your wedding in: Fiji, Tahiti, the Caribbean, or Europe. The best part of eloping is the freedom to spend as much time as you want driving around to various stunning locations- whether they are historical or tropical, and taking the photos that you will remember for a lifetime.

If your wedding is on an island, trash your dress and take some underwater photos.

3. No Family Drama

With divorce rates in the US between 38%-40%, it is likely that you will need to figure out how to separate your parents (and your fiance’s parents) so that they physically can’t see each other at the wedding. And don’t forget about that drunk uncle and likely-to-be-high cousin while you are delicately sifting through the complex relationships of your family when planning your seating arrangements.

The 17 Worst Guests At Every Wedding

4. Save Your Money

Aren’t financial troubles one of the top reasons for divorce? Why not start your marriage on the right foot- out of debt and with some savings in the bank. If you plan you’re trip right, you can have your wedding and honeymoon under $10K.

Instead of spending $20,000 on an elaborate wedding, why not put that money towards the down payment of your house?

5. Jump Right Into Your Honeymoon

Too many people miss out on having their honeymoon because they either 1. don’t have money left over after their exuberant wedding or 2. have difficulty getting time off of work for their wedding and their honeymoon. Eloping is an affordable and easy way to do both.

Get married and wake up the next morning on your villa over the water.

6. It’s Just About The Two Of You

Sure, you and your fiance can bond together through the stress and trials of planning a wedding with your friends and family…or you can bond together while drinking cocktails and taking naps during all the extra free time that you both have because you’re not planning a wedding.

The best way to guarantee that your wedding is just about the two of you is to have the wedding be just the two of you.

8 Reasons Why Female Superheroes Are Ridiculous

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8. Fighting crime in high heels is just not practical

I can’t make it to my desk at work in high heels without rolling my ankle, let alone fight crime.

7. Hair styles that would never work in a fight

If I don’t put my hair in a pony tail when I workout at the gym, my hair sticks to my sweaty face immediately and I have to peel it back to see. Oh, but look, Rogue is wearing a sweatband- so, she’ll be fine.

6. Outfits that are so tight that they can only be painted on

Their outfits make my spandex pants look like snow pants.

5. Sports bras are never, ever worn

I need two when I go running.

4. Unrealistic body types for fighting crime

Lifting boulders daily- these women should look like fridges, not hourglasses.

3. Despite sweating during a fight, their makeup is always intact

I look like batman after he takes off his mask when I’m done my workout.

2. They all seem to have useless accessories

What on earth is that belt holding up?

1. Apparently, Double D’s are mandatory to fight crime

The plastic surgery clinic in the marvel universe is making bank.

UNSANCTIONED

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Vomit covered her shirt, but that didn’t stop her from taking another shot before the unsanctioned lift off.

The pod was crowded with other refugees who were hoping to make it out of earth without having to sell an organ or cram into the transport cubbyholes with the other hapless indentured servants.

Why should the elites be the only ones to breathe fresh air? After all, it was their fathers’ fathers that destroyed this place.

The other refugees were mostly families, tired parents with young children littered across the floor. Bae wished they would be quiet. And buckle up. The shuttle could take off at any moment with no notice at all, or at least that was Bae’s assumption based on how little their “guides” were communicating with them.

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First. Jobs. Are. Terrible

While I mopped up the trail of poop that ended in an explosion of sprayed excrement in the bathroom of an Annie Sez, I seriously reconsidered my future career options. It was only minutes prior that I witnessed the event unfold before my very eyes. I was tediously hanging up abandoned sweaters from the fitting room when I saw a little old lady wearing a plaid, calf-length skirt hastily shuffling towards the bathroom and something strange about the woman caught my eye. There seemed to be something dripping out of the woman’s skirt and I was completely puzzled by what it could be. Then it hit me- the small droplets were caca splashing on the floor with every step that the elderly woman took. I immediately ducked down behind a rack of sweaters, because I knew that I was the lowest ranking worker on the discount retailer’s totem pole, and undoubtedly, I would be the one tagged to clean up the mess (despite not having the word “janitor” anywhere in my title.)

Despite my best efforts to hide, I heard my boss yell out for me, in her thick Jamaican accent, from across the store.

Mac! Grab a mop out of the back room, darling. I’ve got a job for you.

My assistant manager, Jasmine, pointed to the line of defecation when she saw my head pop up from behind a rack of ugly beaded sweaters.

Mac, make sure you clean that up when that nice old lady comes out of the bathroom. Don’t give me any trouble now. Just imagine if that was your grandma. I mean, that’s disgusting, her family needs to put some Depends on their stinkin’ grandmother before they take her out, but… just clean it up.

Unable to defy any authority figure, likely due to years of being mentally broken down by strict, asexual Catholic school nuns, I reluctantly armed myself with thick yellow rubber gloves, bleach, and a roll of paper towels that I found in the back room. I followed the trail of small droppings from the cash register to the bathroom door. The little old woman opened the bathroom door with a sheepish smile and a hint of blushed cheeks that peaked through her translucent skin and I tried my best to alleviate the poor woman’s embarrassment by waiting to clean the mess until she left the store. But the woman moved at the pace of a three-legged turtle, so I began scrubbing when she fell out of view behind a shelf of pleated pants.

I pushed the door open slowly with one hand and was stunned by the crime scene that use to be our clean-ish restroom. How on earth did she manage to take a dump on every inch of this bathroom except the toilet? If anyone had been shown this bathroom and asked “who do you think caused it?”, no one would have guessed it was the work of an 80-year-old delicate flower. No, the extent of this mess suggested that it was caused by some frat boy who just won a hot dog eating contest and then got hammered and then tried to overdose on probiotics.

I accepted my fate, took a deep breathe, and dug in.

When I finally walked out of the bathroom, I delicately stripped off my rubber gloves as to not accidentally spray fecal matter on my new khaki skirt (the irony of how over-dressed I was to be cleaning toilets was not lost on me). I paused for a moment, thankful to be out of the small bathroom and out in the fresh air. I looked around the store- it was the usual crowd of four to five people meandering around the racks of clothing designed for women 40 and older. Suddenly, panic broke through the scratchy easy rock being played from the speakers above.

Jasmine! She’s stealing the jackets!

The scream echoed across the store. I looked over at the register where Jackie, a small female cashier with mousy blonde hair, stood straight up like a hunting dog pointing to the corner of the store. My eyes quickly traced the invisible line from her finger to the 40-something year old woman in the corner of the store who was stuffing suede jackets into a black duffle bag. The woman jumped up as soon as she realized that she was spotted and flung her bag into the air, scattering jackets across the floor. The woman sprinted to the door and managed to escape before Jasmine, who was sprinting like a linebacker to tackle the woman, could reach her. A man from the other side of the store suddenly threw his own bag of stolen goods from the other side of the store and ran out an emergency exit at the side of the building.

I watched Jasmine chase the woman out into the parking lot until she fell out of my view. Glancing around the room, I saw everyone frozen in place, still processing what just happened and unsure what to do. I broke out of my own trance and ran over to the phone at the cash register to call 911.

Just before I could dial the second “1”, Jasmine walked back into the store, out of breath and hair disheveled.

Hang up that phone, Mac. I want you here!

Jasmine pointed her finger to the floor, still panting.

Mac, I am very disappointed in you.

Confused, I looked at Jackie and the other three girls who worked at the store with me. Does she think I was involved in the robbery? I hung up the phone and walked over to where Jasmine was now squatting with her hands on her knees.

Why didn’t you run outside and chase down those criminals with me? Why did you let that man get away?

I raised one eyebrow and looked around at the four other sales representatives in the store, confused as to why I was singled out.

Don’t look at them. I’m talking to you. I expect more from you. I expect them to just stand there like sheep. But you, I expect you to fight. When I ran out that door I expected you to be behind me. I am so disappointed at you I can’t even look at you right now!

Stunned, I stuttered out a string of excuses.

Jasmine, what if that woman had a knife or a gun? I’m in a skirt! And didn’t that video you made me watch when I was first hired say not to take down thieves on your own?

Jasmine clenched her teeth.

Fuck that video, this is your store damn it. Take some pride in it. If you don’ protect it, who will?

Jasmine put up one hand impatiently and walked to the pile of jackets strewn across the floor.

I stood there, my heart an open, gaping wound. Was Jasmine right? Should I take this as a life lesson to have more pride in myself? In my job? To have the courage to literally fight for what was mine? 

Then reality hit me.

Fuck that. I’m paid minimum wage. I just cleaned up someone else’s shit. This woman is insane if she thinks I’m going to risk my life for $7.15 an hour and over-priced, poorly made jackets that were likely made by the small hands of Asian children.