Editor Application

What a morning! My flight to Washington, D.C. was delayed, and that was the highlight of the morning. I have an interview at 9am for Science Weekly, and I have to find a way from Grand Rapids, Michigan to Washington, D.C. in one piece, so far, not so well. In my rush to catch the red-eye flight I gulped some hot coffee, choked on it, and sent the coffee through my mouth and nose all over my lap, along with my false teeth. My husband found this quite humorous, but feared laughing as I was about to blow a mental gasket. As I ran to my room to change out of my now scalding skirt I broke a heel on my shoe and quite possibly my ankle. Breakfast seemed out of the question as I had no time to cook, and darling husband was having too much fun watching this display of stay-at-home mom trying to turn Editor-in-Chief of a magazine I’m unable to read without falling asleep. I’m not going to let that little point get me down though, as much of the science research of the last issue was learning through osmosis, so I put an issue under my pillow last night and feel much smarter this morning. So, here I am, in Washington, D.C. and I’m having trouble finding a parking spot, even for my tiny rental car. I am trying to turn around because I just passed a lot with a few empty spaces, but Secret Service surrounds me when I pulled onto the White House lawn to turn around. “Don’t shoot,” I cry out. “Get out of the vehicle with your arms above your head,” a bald gentleman yells at me. I do just that and follow their instructions until I am splayed upon the ground in the most awkward of positions and I feel guns scraping my scalp as they question me and a female has her knee planted firmly into my back and my arms at an odd angle above my body. “She’s clean,” the female yells and the guns are removed. I look down at my “Mommy Goes to Work” outfit and I am not clean, in fact, I’ve got White House lawn all over my beautiful suit. I take a deep breath as they lead me off the lawn and return my rental car to me. They escort me to the appropriate address with lights flashing so I could make my interview on time. I walk into the building covered in mud and open my attaché case out to find the appropriate suite for the interview. As I enter the office I notice a couple of people following me. I turn around and discover two Secret Service Members have followed me in, guns drawn. My confidence is just about gone when the suite door bangs open and a jolly man drops his jaw in horror. “You, ma’am, have got the job,” he says without even a single interview question. “What? Wait, how can that be? You don’t even know my name.” “Doesn’t matter, anyone that brings their own assistance is well aware of the difficulty of the job, though, I have to say, the guns are a bit much. Can you start today?” “Yes, Sir, just show me to my office and my team and I will get right to work.”