(Wo)Man vs. Wild: The Blind Cave Fish Wins Everytime

Posted on January 15, 2010
Filed Under Daily, Life in L.A., The Boss | 15 Comments

Earlier this week, I had a job interview about 40 minutes from where I live, and if you’ve been following this blog long enough (or are one of the many people I’ve called while lost) then you know that I was born without a sense of direction. Just the other day, I called my friend Stephanie WHO LIVES IN PHILADELPHIA to get me home from the parking lot of a Blockbuster IN LOS ANGELES. A Blind Cave Fish could get around faster than I can, and I have a GPS.

So I get in the car, punch the address into the TomTom, and start backing out of the driveway when TomTom tells me that he lost the GPS signal. I take a look at the directions I printed from Google Maps, and the first step says “head northwest,” but I’m not sure if that’s left or right, which means that I’ve now, for the first time in my life, gotten lost before I even left the driveway. Awesome. I call The Boss for help, but he didn’t answer his phone, so I left a message.

“This is an emergency. I need to know which way to turn out of the driveway. Please call me.”

Now that I live in L.A., and know which direction the beach is in, One would think that I would also then be able to assess where the remaining cardinal points are. However, One should know that I’m not exactly known for my knowledge of the obvious. While I was in college, my driver’s license expired. I figured I would go to the DMV on my next trip home, but that turned out to be six months later, which meant that I had to take the computerized driving exam (the one you take when you’re 16) all over again. I went to the DMV with my dad about an hour before it opened, and the line was already wrapped around the entire building and into the parking lot. It took us nearly three hours before it was my turn to take the test, and when I finally got to the computer, I got this question:

A person of below average intelligence (or even a Blind Cave Fish) would likely have chosen ‘A’. But not me. I chose ‘D’, which resulted in my failing the test. When my dad asked me what happened I said, “Well it didn’t say STOP so I thought it was a trick question,” to which my sister later responded with, “IT WAS A RED OCTAGON! HOW MUCH MORE HELP DID YOU NEED?”

Did I mention, I was IN COLLEGE when this happened.

I had to go back a few weeks later and wait in line for another four days, but this time I was surrounded by a bunch of high school kids with all types of orthodontics going on, and new immigrants who were retaking their test for like, the eighth time. I also had to pay a $2 fee to take the exam again.
AS IF FAILING A DRIVER’S TEST WASN’T PENALTY ENOUGH.

But back to yesterday.
So there I am, still sitting at the top of the driveway, when The Boss so kindly returns my phone call. I pick up, and he’s like, “Where are you?” and I’m like, “In the driveway?” and he’s like, “You haven’t left yet?” and I’m like, “Uh…just said I was in the driveway so obvi I left already” and he’s like, “But you’re not lost on the road?” And I’m like, “I just said I was in the driveway,” and he goes, “So you’re telling me you’re lost in the driveway?” and I’m like, “Well, if you’d stop judging me, maybe I wouldn’t be lost.”

With The Boss’s help, I safely got on the 110 headed north, my GPS caught signal, and it was smooth sailing from there. Well, smooth in the sense that I didn’t get lost, but not smooth in the sense that HOLY GOD people in L.A. drive like they’re about to have explosive diarrhea and need to get to wherever they’re going before their butts explode all over their windshields.

(Sorry, Mom. That’s the only poop joke in this post.)
(Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ll be telling one more, soooo just a heads up.)

Living in L.A., The Boss and I have discovered that although the traffic is bad, the driver’s are worse. See, on the east coast, specifically in the D.C. Metro Area, the drivers are restless, and obnoxious, and aggressive, too. But they are skilled. Here, people drift from lane to lane, they don’t give their blinker, or they leave it on too long, they drive too fast, or too slow, they never make way for other drivers, and they lay it on the horn twice as often as a newborn poops its diaper. (There it is, Mom!)

I made it to my interview like 45 minutes early, which was totally okay by me, because it’s better than showing up an hour and 15 minutes late, so I took a few minutes in the parking lot to get my paper work together, and double check my hijab, and whatnot. I reached for the visor mirror only to find that there was a HUGE HOLE IN THE ARMPIT OF MY SHIRT.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to.

I went into the lobby of the building, checked in with the receptionist, and since I had like 30 minutes to kill, and hadn’t used the bathroom all day most likely due to my anxiety about getting lost, I asked if there was a bathroom in the lobby. The girl at the reception desk showed me to the bathroom, and goes, “Here you go, Unisex.”

At first I was all, OMG, does she think I’m Half-Boy like those women in India thought I was? But then I realized that she was talking about the bathroom, which was in fact, Unisex. But that didn’t make me feel much better, and I started to panic thinking, What if I’m using the bathroom and some guy comes in and drops his pants? By this point I had to use the bathroom really bad — like when you play Hide-n-Seek bad, so I cautiously opened the door, and saw that it was a single bathroom. (I guess the “unisex” was for whoever needed to go.) I walked in, and locked the door, but didn’t see the little bolt pop out of the door and into the frame. Unsure of whether or not I actually locked it, I kept turning the lock, and then opening the door, and checking the handle because my neurotic behavior likes to make an appearance at really critical moments in my life. LIKE AT JOB INTERVIEWS.

I finally gave up, and decided that I’d just scream if someone tried to walk in, or jump off the toilet and waddle over to the door to push it shut — but when I turned around, I kid you not, the toilet was like 100 yards away from the door, which totally ruined Plan B because one can only waddle so fast. Also, I was pretty sure that hole in my armpit would have slowed me down. Luckily, no one barged in, although I kept thinking about what I would say if someone were to have knocked.

“Hold on.”

“Someone’s in here.”

“Who is it?”

“Yes?”

“It’s me.”

“Just a second?”

“Come in!”

Thankfully the interview wasn’t nearly as chaotic as the first half of my day. The man that interviewed me was super nice, and the job sounds groovy. The company will likely make their decision in the next few weeks, so I guess we’ll wait and see what happens. In the mean time, I need to take a sewing kit to my shirt, make friends with a compass, and possibly adopt a Blind Cave Fish.

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