Here's a flaw for you. My sense of direction is so bad I can't find my way out of a cardboard box.If there was ever any doubt about that fact, it disappeared today on my way to the Cochran Firm interview. The Internet directions I got to the Westin Plaza Hotel, where the interview was supposed to be held, said to veer right once you got on the exit ramp. I did, and so began an hour and a half of me driving around Atlanta, not having a clue as to where I was going or even how to get back to the interstate.
I held out hope at first. When the incorrect directions landed me on Ponce de Leon, I pulled into a Kroger and called the law firm in Alabama. The receptionist said she would email the attorneys at the hotel and see if they could reschedule me. She called back a few minutes later and said they would try to fit me if I could find the hotel.
Well, that was a mighty big if.
I thought I could just backtrack to the exit. Turn right out of Kroger, right again onto the street I had turned off of to get onto Ponce de Leon, and then another right or left after that. It sounded simple, but it wasn't because I couldn't remember the name of the street before Ponce. I thought I recognized a few landmarks and turned onto what I thought was the correct street. It wasn't. Then I attempted to go around the block to get back to Ponce or to the correct street. The attempt was futile because all I did was get further and further lost.
I spent well over an hour turning and turning, trying to figure out where the hell I was and where the hell the hotel had gone. I saw the Capitol building. I saw Turner Field. I saw Martin Luther King Boulevard, some historical graveyard, the Sweet Auburn district, and signs for the Fernbank Museum and the Atlanta Zoo. I saw neighborhoods that I was scared to stop in. I saw graffiti, barred windows, what seemed like 100 apartment complexes, and plenty of people who seemed to know where they were going. I even saw the emergency room at Grady Memorial Hospital. Yes, that's right. I drove right past the ER because what I thought was a way to the interstate turned out to be the driveway for the ER. That was fun.
What I didn't see for an hour and a half was anywhere to stop and ask for directions (I didn't think blocking the ER driveway to ask a nurse was appropriate), anywhere to go to the bathroom (I was in tears my bladder was so full), anything pointing to International Boulevard or the Westin, or a sign for I-75. Every now and then I would see the interstate. I just couldn't figure out how to get there.
My interview was supposed to be at 12:50. Once the clock in my car hit 2:30, I officially gave up trying to get there. At that point, I figured the attorneys had given up on me showing. Even if they hadn't, there was no way they were going to hire someone who showed up two hours late to an interview, no way, especially when they had been interviewing people all day long who were on time and probably a lot more qualified than me.
About 15 minutes later, after a few more circles through parts of Atlanta I didn't even know existed, I finally found my way to the interstate. Fifteen minutes after that, I stopped at the first Burger King that I saw a sign for. This is probably more than any of you wanted to know, but I had been holding it for so long at that point that it actually hurt to release the muscles and go, so much so that I almost started crying on the toilet.
I'm finally home now. Given that I really needed that job and that interview, I know that I should probably be curled up in a ball, bawling my eyes out, but I'm too pissed to cry. I'm pissed that I stayed up last night reading about Social Security law and printing out writing samples in case the attorneys asked for one. I'm pissed that I spent money on gas this morning, gas that is now gone. I'm pissed that I used up a quarter of a tank of gas, which is the same amount of gas it takes me to drive all the way to my hometown four hours away, just driving around Atlanta. I'm pissed that I missed the interview. I'm pissed that I put in all this effort for what was a long shot at best. I'm pissed that, had I found the place, parking would have been $15. I'm pissed that I get to do it all over again Tuesday for a different interview. I'm pissed that, with my luck, I'll probably get every bit as lost Tuesday as I did today and blow yet another interview. I'm pissed that I can't afford a GPS. I'm pissed that this county doesn't have MARTA. I'm pissed about a lot of things.
Most of all, I'm pissed that genetically predisposed to be a country girl who can't find her way around the big city without getting lost.
Maybe I should just forget law and take up farming, but knowing me I would probably still get lost on a tractor in a field of corn.
