The Interview

The other day I got a call from a company asking me to come in for an interview for the intern position they had open. Being stoked about it, I enthusiastically scheduled a time and got the fuck off the phone. I really hate talking on the phone.

Anyway, that happened on a Tuesday. My interview was set for the following Monday. Did I prep? Yeah. As much as I should have? No. I literally read the company's website "About Me" section an hour before the interview. I got extra lost trying to drive there. Seriously, I hate downtown Honolulu. The roads are screwed up everywhere on the island but dear lord, downtown Honolulu doesn't want you to get anywhere on time.

Dry heaving and panicking, I got myself there twelve minutes early. I fully intended on being there fifteen minutes early so I was already kind of psyching myself out. I was wearing a full pantsuit in the heart of this Hawaiian summer. I looked good but I was HOT AS FUCK.

The HR lady offered me a glass of water. I accepted. Was that okay? It was a good idea at the time but now I'm not too sure. Anyway, the view. The view from the conference room we held the interview at was OUT-FREAKING-STANDING. I seriously probably looked out the window 200 too many times during the interview. You could see planes taking off, the shimmer of the ocean, and mountains in the distance. Distracted during interview. Check.

I don't remember a lot of the questions they asked me. Most of them were the basic what's your weakness? why do you think you'd be a good fit here? Stuff like that. My favorite question, of course, was "What are you good at?" I almost said "Want to read my blog?!" Yeah except I'm not exceptional at anything so I most definitely didn't say that. I made up some bullshit about how I'm determined and all that.

After the interview, I asked the minimum requirement of two questions, shook hands, walked out of the office, and took my fucking jacket off. Naturally, I reflected on my drive home. All I could tell myself to make me feel better about myself was that I had improved since my last interview. Go me!

You ever get three quarters of the way through your blog post and realize that you have no idea where its' going? It's happening. The struggle is real. How to close out? I guess I should tie it into the big picture here.

I reflected, talked it through with the love of my life. One day, after all these stupid interviews, someone will like me for me. So the best thing I can do is accurately present Michelle and hope that I'm the perfect fit. It would be literally the worst thing ever to have a company fall in love with someone that's not me. As if going to work isn't bad enough, going to work and having to pretend to be some shitty, non JOAT person would suck even more.

I guess this is both good and bad sides of being a JOAT.

Until we meet again,
Michelle: JOAT, MON

What does an electical engineer even do?

electrical engineering

n.

The branch of engineering that deals with the technology of electricity, especially the design and application of circuitry and equipment for power generation and distribution, machine control, and communications.

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electrical engineer n.

 Time to get to know me. Besides knowing that I go on family vacations to Oregon, drink beer with my cousin in front of a campfire, and am terrible at telling stories, you know nothing (Jon Snow). I, with both fortune and misfortune, major in Electrical Engineering. Now I'm going on my sixth year out of high school and yes, I am still in college trying to get my B.S. in this ridiculous subject. 

I'm assuming you're not an engineer, specifically an electrical engineer. If you are, please get me an internship. Anyway, when people ask me that oh so wonderful question, "What does an electrical engineer do? It just sounds like a lot of icky calculus work to me" I freeze up and just say "Uh they do a lot of things... Mostly, they get paid a lot."Although I've introduced them to my awkwardness and my distaste for small talk, they still proceed to ask "Why did you decide to major in that?" Me being the most anti-people person ever, I just tell people "My dad did it." I decided not to go with "Well besides that I'll potentially make a fuck ton of money when I graduate, my dad wouldn't pay for college unless that was what I studied." 

See, I don't enjoy talking about myself at all. Especially when it comes to strangers. I don't completely understand why I don't like it. To this day, I hate having to order food, ask for help, talk on the phone. This is fine though, blogging. I guess I'm just whatever that millenial thing is. 

Anyhow, I major in Electrical Engineering. If you look into it a little bit more, you'll see that it's one of the most difficult majors. So hopefully you'll understand why a JOAT like me has but a mere 2.9 overall GPA. Now it's not that I don't understand the material, I simply don't test well. Sadly, this reflects in my grade. The shitty part about it is that I do well in labs. I think the lowest lab grade that I have is a B in Physics 2. But seriously, that guy was a total robot so I'm happy with a B. Even shittier, labs are worth all of one credit each. Hence, the shitty GPA. I'll be seriously impressed with myself if I graduate with a 2.75 which is around a B-. But screw that minus sign. It's still a fucking B. 

Being that most normal people wouldn't put themselves through this and take somewhat easier classes, getting an A in non-engineering classes was cake. You should see my transcripts when organized by subject. It's outstanding. Most engineers can't write to save their lives. Michelle has A's in English 100 and 200! Fucking JOAT!

Well now that I've spent way too much time dwelling on the fact that I am, in fact, above average when it comes to college, I'll end it here. Let's try to math this out. If I'm good (B average) at everything, not great at anything (A average), and am taking stupid hard classes, (there goes the B average), what does that make my JOAT self? B minus! Now hopefully that's what I'll end up with. Don't want to let all my followers down! Yes, all one of you. :)

Until we meet again,
Michelle: JOAT, MON

First Thing's, Beer. Second Thing's, Campfire.

I came to this realization of me being a J.O.A.T. a few years ago but didn't bring it to life until a chilly spring night in Oregon. I'm from Hawaii so anything lower than 70 is chilly for me.

I had turned 21 that past October so I fully intended on drinking every night of spring break. Now I said, drink, not get drunk. That would be too normal and too much like someone that was excellent at drinking. I, however, was with my family and my family doesn't get plastered together. We just go out to eat, go on vacations, eat some more, boring stuff like that. Therefore, I stopped at three beers every night for fear of being hungover the following day that was bound to be filled with family oriented things.

Anyway, the house we were staying at was pretty awesome. It was right on a lake and there was a fireplace in the backyard. After the boys, and myself lit the fire, we popped open a few (three) beers and got our buzz on. A few hours went by and it ended up just being my cousin, Ryan, and I. Now you have to understand, I've always wanted a brother. No matter how good my imagination was, I could not turn my sister into that brother I wanted. (Ah see. The JOAT curse.) So this Ryan character, being the closest thing to a brother I'll get, was the guy I turned to with my problems.

Girls. We talked about girls. The good, the bad, mostly the good. Beer. Yes, what else would we talk about? Eventually, we got to grades and school and LIFE. When we got to life, I simply said, "Do you ever feel like you're GOOD at everything and just not AMAZING at any one thing?" He looked down for a period of time and turned his eyes back at me, widened with the idea of this new creature named JOAT that we just discovered, and whispererd, "Yes."

Wow that was terrible story telling. Guess you had to be there. 

Until we meet again,
Michelle: JOAT, MON

MICHELLE of all trades, master of none

You see, I have this problem. Growing up it was mostly a blessing but now that the "growing up" is almost done, it's really just become this big fucking problem.

I'll be straight up cocky about it. I, Michelle, am good at everything. I was raised to be well rounded. What asian kid isn't? Being a female in this day in age, I was encouraged by parents, teachers, adults in general to pursue everything, including what boys are stereotypically good at. I thrived. I am the definition of a well rounded kid. Problem is, yes I'm good at everything. Plot twist: I'm not GREAT at anything. Not one damn thing.

So I'll give you the bottom line up front. This blog, this fresh, wonderful, blog will be dedicated to my struggles and triumphs (mostly struggles) with being this so called Jane MICHELLE of all trades. I invite you to laugh (at), cry (with?), and enjoy the stories I bring to you.

Well here's the first thing I'm just good at: writing blogs. Why I'm not great: this two and a half paragraph entry took me two hours and yes, I tried entirely too hard to be entertaining.

Until we meet again,
Michelle: J.O.A.T.,M.O.N.