I think I'll keep my soul, thankyouverymuch.

A few weeks ago, I saw an ad on craigslist looking for a proofreader for a publishing company. It sounded like my dream job. And I recognized the email address as a temp agency Squeak works for. So I made some calls, I made some connections, and I submitted my resume. After a few days of waiting for an interview, I called the temp agency, who told me that the company had also been doing their own recruiting, and that they were "moving forward with their own candidate." Obviously, I didn't understand this phony, convoluted temp agency speak, because I pressed the question, and got confused when she told me to go ahead with my other plans.

My other plans were Trader Joe's. So last Friday afternoon, I went in and filled out an application. On Tuesday morning, I had an interview (yes, I said interview - you think TJ's finds its helpful, friendly, always witty staff by a written app alone?), which I totally aced - I was funny, sparkling, above all candid - telling stories about my worst day at the restaurant, or why I got fired from Baskin Robbins when I was 15. At the end, they told me they typically like to do two interviews, and that they'd call me in a day or two to let me know. They called less than an hour later and we set the second interview for Thursday.

Later that day, the aforementioned temp agency called me. The person the publishing company had "decided to move forward with" had just quit unexpectedly, and now they wanted to interview me. So I set that one up for Wednesday. Dress professionally, she said, because this company was affiliated with the military after all, and call her afterwards to let her know how it went.

The next morning, I headed down to the company in my longest skirt and best pantyhose, and upon entering the interviewer's office, was told why the last guy had up and left: this wasn't a proofreading job as in editing; this was a proofreading job as in quality control, as in checking to make sure supplied ad copy matches printed ad copy, as in cross-checking indexes to make sure things are on the pages they say they're on, as in no creative control whatsoever. Then she asked if I was still interested. And I was honest: "Well... less so?" But I went on to learn more about the position, we talked for about half an hour, and in the end I told her that despite what I'd said initially, I want to get into publishing, I know a good opportunity when I see it, and I'm willing to play by the rules.

"That was what I wanted to hear," she said.

I also told her that I had a couple other balls in the air, but that this would be my first choice position since it was industry-related, and so if she didn't think she wanted to hire me, to let me know right then so I could go follow through with something else.

"No, that's not what I'm thinking at all," she said. "But I can't say until I interview this last person tomorrow afternoon." So we agreed that she'd call and let me know either way Thursday afternoon. I felt pretty good about it, that is until I got home and called the temp agency.

"Oh..." said the agent in her sugary faux-professional voice. "I don't think you should have told her you thought you were overqualified - I'm sure she appreciated your candidness, but I don't think you told her what she wanted to hear."

I woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was worried I wouldn't get the job, but then I was even more worried that I would. The word of the day became "spirit-crushing", especially after I went to my second interview at Trader Joe's and came back feeling clever and enlivened. So I spent most of the afternoon stressing about the industry job verses the enjoyable job, this of course being under the assumption that I'd be offered both.

The publishing company's last interview had been at 1:00. When I didn't hear from them by 2, I started to figure I didn't get the job. By 3, I was annoyed, because I'd promised TJ's I'd call them that afternoon. Finally, at 4:30, I called the temp agency to ask. "Oh," the woman said, as though she was surprised that I was calling to follow up after she'd told me the day before that I gave the wrong answers in my interview. "Let me check... I have an email... They've decided to move forward with another candidate."

This time, I understood.

And to be honest, I was so relieved. The term "professional integrity" comes to mind. And, like C-List and I agreed later, if there's one thing we've learned in life, it's to steer clear of the military. And temp agencies. Something better will come along.

In the meantime, TJ's is starting me at $11/hour - most new hires with no grocery experience get 9, but I have six months of waitressing and (the unspoken) an amazing personality. It's something I support, something I can believe in, and I already know I like all my superiors - the second interview was more like a 90-minute conversation about n'importe quoi. Maybe it's not taking me anywhere near my ideal career path, but seriously, my GI tract and I feel so much better.