Bingo. Except I have been through them, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I suck.
There's just nothing about job interviews that I get. I never know what to wear to them. I want to look nice, but I don't want to overdo it - and I certainly don't want to out-dress my interrogator. And when I get there, I don't really know where to go. So then I have to find someone who looks important enough and awkwardly introduce myself, before being paraded through the store past all the other shoppers and employees (who, in their little vests and name-tags, all glance up at me with these grim, lifeless stares that you just know say, "You poor *******, turn back now" - or, at least that's what they would
be saying, if they were still capable of feeling anything).
And then I get to that back room that none of the regular customers ever get to see, and it's all dark and dingy. There's always a single long table in the middle of the room, and a lone bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Then there's that long mirror running the length of the far wall, and you just know there's an army of people behind it whose job is to analyze my every move. And then the interviewer rolls up his sleeves, loosens his tie and shines that bright light in my face, and I'm immediately reduced to a raving lunatic who can no longer string together coherent sentences.
It gets ugly. Every time.