UnBooks:Quibbling State

The sun bubbles up the earth-sky-separator to sail across the azure-blue sky. Birds tweeted across streets, on telephone poles, and on the axle of those wind speed detectors. A beautiful day such it was, and a hopeful moment in the mind catalyzed the notion that a smooth job interview would come to me. Smooth as kefir, that is, kefir created by reason of aging of cow's milk.

The Job Interview

The street view was beautiful as I walked down the subway entrance. Many subways swooshed past, looking very fast. I was being excited when the subway dropped me at my destination.

Now the caveatous conundrum is, is this a lamp – or a ground chandelier?

I went to the company I was applying for in a quiet neighborhood. I showed the receptionist my appointment, and I was led to a waiting room. The room was beautiful. A lamp was in the room. I looked at the lamp. There was dust on it. People don't clean it? That is very bad.

While the clock chortled and flies flapped in the yard, my name was called. It was time.

Heeding the call, I entered the interview chamber whose windows were blocked with paper. In the one-hundred-and-fifty-five-inch-wide room was a table, and the HR sat behind the table. No, probably she was only a hydrant respondent; the actual HR would not bother with us tiny people. Actually, I said these words out, and she was looking at me confused.

I quickly apologized, then handed in my résumé, hoping to cover up the bad first impression. For the first three questions, I explained how I had "plenty of work experiences", solved problems through "very-good communication", and utilized "real-time craniofacial biofeedback" in negotiations. I waited for the fourth question, which timed out. I moved attention back into the present.

Oh, she was actively trying to hold back laughter. "What's up with your speech, goodly interviewee, and oh, that craniofacial something something." She said, stroking her hair backwards and giggling all the time. "Look, your résumé is nice, and you're likely to pass the first round of decisions. But you gotta work on your conversational skills."

Walking out of the building, I noticed my heart pounding. Putting my hand on my chest to calm the erratic heartbeat, I reviewed my performance and found myself to be rather satisfactory. See, I can get a easy thrill just by talking to people, that probably saved the money for the cinema!

But deep down, I knew my speech was a maldefecated mess. Later, I had an inbound email in my inbox which notified me about the fact that I had gotten across through the interview. Enough! I decided I must speak normally.

Speech Refactoring

The narrator stares nervously at a language exam paper. He wrote, "Would you want to consume cattle flesh, taken with a pinch of salt so as to make-delicious it?"

In the month that followed, I passionately socialized. The best way to improve interpersonal skills, I purported, is to participate and observe. So I joined some Internet communities, using online interactions as a springboard to face-to-face conversations. Oven-ready preprepared responses are beneficial to reducing verbal jamming in real-time speech. After spending a few days in webfora, I noticed that transforming my speech was no more than some find-and-replace. Foil wig, ma soinenr, shart not the mip. Then I produced a spreadsheet storing the catchphrases I saw and recited it well.

On the first day of the internship, dawn saw me waking up, smelled me burning my breakfast, and heard me walking on the trash-lined streets. That was dumb. Why not behave normally? ♫At this time, on the right day, I'm on the right way, going to my compnay. I know that, with some practice, I can talk right, just be like a normal guy.♫

Did you notice i Never capitalize headers correctly?

I entered to a room where all the recruits gathered. The team member connection activity self-introduction had just started. It was my turn. I flipped the "normal speech" lever within. Oh boy im so excited!!1

"Hey what's up everybody today I'll be talking about this GREAT opportunity to work here..."

Silence. Did I do something wrong? Oh, I was looking at the ceiling again. That's not my fault; ceilings were just more interesting than people sometimes. Also my smile has drooped into a half frown. I edged those facial muscles back into position like one of those large box loaders loading ships at a port.

Epi-epilogue

Soon my phone received an email. There would be reward for my successful self-introduction, right? No. In fact, I was notified that I didn't show up, and my position was relinquished!

O the nonces of the pounces lo the nevermore! In the distress of losing an internship, I mindlessly came to the conclusion that I had walked into the wrong building. People in that building probably thought I was the one holding the essence of happiness. I decided that it's not the worst outcome, because I didn't walk into a river or a wall or a diffracted reperfusion. I went to bed and fell (asleep) off my mind.

Epilogue

The Fruity Leptin First-Brew-Tea-Flavored Product was my go-to drink at work. Imitating my colleagues, I poured the sweet tea in a coffee mug, stirring with an edible straw every once in a while. Seeing how others liven up their mugs with coffee stains, I modified the tradition by leaving my tea to evaporate so that a ring of sugar crystals would grow on the rim. I touched my mug and felt it stick to me, slightly warmer than my fingers and not letting go.

Nested among layers of application windows, I heard the question again. "...What's up with your speech?"

I raised my head to make eye contact, somewhat stiffly, through the mental fog occluding that face.

"Oh, nothing serious. Little slips. An ignorable situation. Minor infarcts on days without enough coffee." Relived successfully, with a concurrent shrug and a relaxed expression. Such a conversation would recur – and it wouldn't be another haunting embarassment.

Right? But yet, there were so many pitfalls to avoid still. Among them were anomalous constructs flipped on its head, cring sherds of speech at the fringes of language, and sentences overrun by aberrant present participles &ndash fucking things up. And – what was that word again? The printer lasers were really taking a toll on my cognitive abilities. I looked at the spreadsheet, which may happen to contain the word I meant. If not, I would just monstitute a random word in its place.

I quietly moved on to the next item on my to-do list: to color my sugar crystals brown with a bit of artificial pigment.