Holding Back

I've been pretty hush-hush about the fact that I applied for a job with the company where I'm currently a contractor. I don't like to keep secrets, so it's been rather a strain on my nerves.

Add to that the fact that I work in very close quarters, share a printer, ladies room, and break room with the people who interviewed me, and you will understand that there have been some awkward moments here and there as I run into these nice people and try to restrain myself from shaking them by the collar and begging them to please put me out of my misery and let me know if they are going to hire me already.

So far, so good, but I'll be glad when this whole thing is over.

As if walking around pretending to be all normal and shit while I wait to find out whether or not I got the job isn't difficult enough, I also have had to put up with a well meaning, fellow contractor friend of mine, one of the very few and privileged people I happened to let in on my secret job interviewing, who comes sniffing around my cube twice daily, asking in loud whispers, if I've heard anything about the job.

She has been doing this for what has now become weeks, like ever since I applied for the job and began the interview process. I'm ready to kill her.

Like dead.

Or at least maim her in some serious way that will leave marks, blisters and/or bald spots.

On Monday I asked her, in what I perceived to be the nicest way possible, to please not ask me about it any more. I assured her in calm and soothing tones that she would be the first to know. She seemed taken aback and quite stung by my request. I felt bad and wondered if I had used a harsher tone that I intended because I swear I saw tears well up in her eyes. So I promised that I would call her to let her know before I even call my own husband with the good (or bad, but I'm trying to remain optimistic) news.

I promised that she would be the first to know. Promised.

It seems that she has taken my request seriously because she doesn't come over to my cube twice a day and ask me about the job anymore. Thanks for that.

No. Now she comes over to my cube twice a day and in an understanding, wink-wink, overly sunshiny tone asks how am I "doing today". Insert air quotes here.

I'm not sure she knows it, but I immediately recognized this as a poorly disguised way of asking me if I've heard anything about the job. I'm pretty smart that way. I catch on.

I have so far responded by giving her one of those lip less smiles of mine where I don't show any teeth and my lips are pressed together, nod my head a little and say, "I'm fine, thanks for asking".

What I really want to do is leap from my chair, press her into a headlock and shove the contents of my recycling bin up her nose and scream,
"For fuck's sake you nosy twat, leave me the fuck alone. Stop fucking asking me about it. Fuck!" and then storm around my cube and knock shit over until I calm down, professional wrestler style.

I fear doing this may jeopardize my chances of getting the job.