It was my first job interview ever, and it was going to be
at SeaWorld.
My older sister set up the application for me, told me it'd
be at 11, and we never spoke about it again.
The day came, as days always come, that the interview would take place, and strangely enough I wasn't nervous! I lingered around in my living room, dolled up with makeup, without a care in the world, spare the uncomfortable pain my new flats were giving me.
It wasn't until my sister turned the key in the ignition that the world closed in on me. It all became very real.
Despite my fears, I'd go into a tiny little cubical to be
judged by a person and see if they deemed me worthy of employment.
And in retrospect, that last sentence is massively anticlimactic.
