The top of my head, my scalp, felt dry like I imagined snake skin would feel, and I took to it with the perverse interest of dried glue. I was in the tub trying to relax. I had a high-grade cooking oil the doctor suggested for the webbing behind my knees that got eczema, best to put on when the skin is wet and do in the shower, he said. But I poured too much out and used some on my scalp, thought what the heck. It’s almond oil, not cheap. I smelled like an asian dish when I got out, and it made me hungry.

For about two days my hair stood up straight and I refused to wear a hat, even when I walked my kids in public, to the bus stop or park & ride. I wanted to be like that boogie woogie singer Cadillac Kolstad we met in Germany. He always carried a comb and made a big deal out of brushing his hair. Maybe there was a part of being a guy I was missing out on, by taking active interest in my hair. This could be the start, with products: pomade, hair grease, tonics, oil.

I didn’t have to go into the office and that was good. They were going to renovate the building (tear it down), and I was coming up on the mandatory six months you have to go off-network if you’re a contractor with Microsoft. About once a year I update my resume and scatter it around (seed metaphor), and this week got some takers for informational interviews.

But I’m at the far end of my eight-week hair cut cycle, with silvery tufts starting to bloom around my ears. I did what I could on my own, had Lily shave my neck. She kept going down my back and shoulders and I thought I looked pretty good, for once.

I got to my appointment 45 minutes early and ate a hard-boiled egg in the car. Those corporate office parking lots are pretty bleak, not much to look at. I got out and walked, tried to look natural, but most people I saw were shuttling back and forth in vanpools or branded buses. The rain was a winter rain though the landscape was trending spring.

I’ll take walks like that before interviews if I’ve got gas or strange stomach sounds because neither are good in small rooms with strangers. I like to blow everything out and come in fresh, ready to be filled up.

The first thing about job interviews is you’re trying to figure out if you like one another, that’s it. You get the time because you appear to meet the qualifications, but the arguably harder, more important part, is the match made between you and the workgroup. I feel like I could do just about any kind of work, provided I like the people. And in this case I really did.

I went back to the other office, left after lunch so I could let the dog out, set my alarm and turned my phone to do-not-disturb, dozed, walked the dog, got Charlotte from the nurse’s office at school (headache, sickish), did the same with Lily at Starbucks, worked all the while in between.

At the end of the day I came down to the den and turned the lights off, watched the pendulum swing on the wall clock, reflected in the house lights across the street. If there was a moon outside it was smothered in clouds.

Categories: humor, musings

Tags: humor, interview techniques, job advice, parenting, William Pearse writer