It’s been months since I was let go from my last job. There’s no reason to bore you with the details of cut-backs and budget problems and lamenting the economy—we all know someone who’s been there. It’s hard: you get it. And you can imagine how relieved I was when I finally got an interview at a place that actually liked me because of my skill set. To think—a job in my field again, something I could really do well. I couldn’t blow this interview.
Well, I could.
I thought I had had everything laid out perfectly. Interview power-outfit picked out three days in advance, ironed two days in advance, and re-ironed the night before. I had looked up several employees on LinkedIn, and knew their names, job titles, and connections to people I had worked with in the past. I knew the details of the position inside and out, brushed up on some of my old tricks, and new there was nothing stopping me.
So I said.
The pressure regulator, whatever the hell that is, decided to break in the middle of the night, and so when I got up the next morning bright and early to prepare for my big day, I was doomed right from the start.
I made the mistake of thinking I would be able to get ready quickly because I had been so prepared the night before with all of the double-ironing. So I woke up with only half an hour to get showered, dressed and out the door. But the sink and the shower we’re both only a tiny bit better than a half-full turkey baster, dripping the occasional drop on my head.
My hair was thick with spray and mousse from a birthday celebration the night before, so there was no getting around the need for a real shower. But nothing was getting fixed from the Chinese water-torture that was my bathroom’s low water pressure. I called the plumber but obviously they couldn’t fix my problem in the next 20 minutes—so I decided to get creative.
I hopped in the car, and drove to the closest water source I knew: the Pacific Ocean. One of the perks of living in West LA.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the pacific Ocean. It was the beach showers in Marina Del Rey. I thought for a moment about sneaking into the Ritz-Carlton Marina Del Rey, but I knew they’d know, and I wasn’t about to try and pay $300 for a 5 minute shower. So I booked it to the waterfront, found the shower stalls, and did my best not to get my whole body wet while I frantically washed my hair.
I was in the clear. I was washed, and I could put some product in on the drive over—problem solved. But I went to hop on the freeway and realized I had just traveled 10 minutes away from the traffic. If you know West LA, you know that rush hour is not a forgiving friend. My 5 minute detour cost me 45 minutes of extra traffic, and ultimately the interview. Low water pressure cost me a job.
Lesson learned: Shower the night before.