the best cure...

...for performance anxiety is micro-management.

i have pre-done a complete itinerary for my day tomorrow, including everything from what i plan to make for breakfast to the addresses of each of my interviews complete with directions on how to get there, as i've looked everything up on mapquest. i know this city and its environs intimately, having lived here all my life, but when it comes to job interviews, i never, ever leave it to chance.

i've written out details of the job interviews, printed out all my original cover letters for quickie reference before i go in.

tips i find work for me --

• it doesn't matter if you've emailed your resume to a job's HR department; never, ever show up without a paper copy in a manila envelope in your briefcase. ever. never take a backpack, either. look like a professional. this isn't college.
• always make sure your hands are dry and of normal temp before the interview -- clammy hands show nerves, and while everyone has nerves, it's the confident people who get jobs.
• always show up early.
• always turn off your cellphone.
• never look at your watch.
• always make eye contact. smile often.
• if you're thinking of an answer, then shut up and think; never, ever hem or haw or emit an "um" or "uh." you'll sound like a fucking moron.
• always allow 75 minutes for an interview, 90 to be sure. if they like you, they will probe you like you're an alien in Area 51.
• always allow time for parking, or plan to have things go sideways, and build an extra 15-20 minutes of travel time in, no matter how close it is.
• don't lie about how much money you want. lowball them and then they'll take you up on the under-valued pay you've proposed. tell them what you really want. all they can do is say no. sometimes, they agree. you're worth it because you believe you are, you know.

i've got my resumes printed off, and they're paperclipped, not stapled, so they can spread it out in front of them. i'll iron my clothes tonight, prepare some of my breakfast, reread all the cover letters i've sent, and make sure i've got gas in my scooter, moist towellettes to clean my hands in case anything should dirty 'em between here and there (and in case i need to put hair product in after my scoot -- sticky hands are bad, too, obviously).

basically, i'm going to control everything i can, tonight, before bed, so all i have to do is worry about one thing... being Super Steff. the "employ me NOW" uber-Steff who really fucking deserves not just a job, but every single fucking one i'm interviewing for.

hell, i've even written on my schedule to take calcium at 7pm tonight as it's a known sleep-aid for women. funny, but this neurosis might make the difference with everything.

and now, a nap, 'cos my fucking 4 hours sleep didn't cut it. i have a plan now. i feel more confident. it's all about me, not them. i just need to remember that. later, i might head out on my bike. that, or just walk around my hood. my lack of sleep kicked my ass. that, and the quesadilla. woke up after an hour of sleep and bowed to the porcelain god. may have been minor food poisoning. always a nice gift on a stressful weekend. coulda just been stress, too. mexican and stress, y'know, probably an unwise combo.