Prologue Part II: My Peace Corps Interview

Here’s the story of my Peace Corps interview as best I can remember it (remember, that was nearly one full year ago)...

So it’s the day of my interview, and I had everything prepared the night beforehand. I’ve got a copy of my birth certificate/whatever else Peace Corps wanted, my clothes are all laid out, and my mom’s letting me borrow her car.

I wake up in the morning, shower, and get dressed. I’m wearing khakis, a t-shirt, and a button-down shirt over that. The t-shirt is from America Counts, an organization I volunteered at, helping tutor math after school to kids who could use the some help (be it that their parents work multiple jobs/have no time, they don’t speak too much English, or any other reason). It’s a really great organization, but I digress. Over that I’m wearing a very bright, green button-down shirt (the shirt is unbuttoned so you can clearly see the America Counts t-shirt underneath. This shirt was a present from my host family while I was volunteering in Uganda. I figured that if my interviewer commented on my choice of clothes, it would lead to a nice side-conversation about why I’m awesome/Peace Corps material.

I gather my documents that prove I exist, print out some mapquest directions, bring my ukulele along, and walk towards my mom’s car. Only problem is, the car’s missing. Frantic, I call my mom’s cell phone. I get the machine. I keep calling, then my brother Joey tells me Mom never answers her cell, try calling her blackberry. So I do, and of course she picks up on the first try. My mom went grocery shopping, she thought my interview was an hour later than it was. Great.

So she brings the car back, I rush outside and usurp it. For some reason the GPS isn’t working right. Not all the letters respond on the touch-screen, so I can’t actually enter the address of my regional Peace Corps office. Fine, whatever, that’s why I printed out the mapquest directions anyway. As I’m about to pull out, my dad’s car drives up the driveway. Within about 30 seconds, we switch GPSs, and I’m on my way.

As I’m driving, my recruiter calls my cell. I answer, he’s just confirming that I’m coming. I reply that I am, but that I may be a few minutes late (the estimated time I tell him is the time the GPS says I’ll arrive). Traffic’s horrible, I call him again and tell him I’ll be a little later than expected (trying to look responsible, here). I’m nervous, I’m late, I planned to leave early but my morning was crazy. Whatever, I find a parking space a few blocks from the Peace Corps office, put some money in the meter, and run.

As I’m standing there in the waiting room, my Peace Corps recruiter comes and walks me to his office where he’ll interview me. We pass by some woman, he stops, and introduces me as the guy whose application essay she liked. Sweet. We get to his office, and the interview’s going really well. I apologized for being late, he told me it’s no big deal. He did mention my clothes, though. Apparently a lot of people fail to take the Peace Corps interview seriously and come dressed in whatever (a suit is preferred). I explain my reasoning, he kind of smiles and tells me that’s fine. I’m relieved. We go over some facts on my application, you know, just to confirm that my address is right, what my name is, and that my social security number is...oh G-d. So, being a college student, I got really used to putting my Student ID on all my tests/papers/whatever. I may have kind of written my student ID in the "social security" box on my application. "No problem," my recruiter says with a smile, "that's why we do this." About an hour or longer into the interview we stop everything because I have to put some more money in the meter (this is so not my day). I come back, the interview’s going really well, and all I can think about is everything that’s gone wrong. Well, it turns out there’s some more. I forgot to get myself fingerprinted (Peace Corps sent me a card with spaces for all my fingerprints and I was supposed to get that done before the interview). No biggie, my recruiter walks me to a back room and we get it done there. As I’m being fingerprinted, he starts to talk to me about possible places I could serve in as a Peace Corps volunteer. Am I in? He hasn’t officially told me yet. But he’s already talking about countries I could go to. Weird.

As my recruiter’s a former Peace Corps volunteer in Thailand, he says goodbye to my in Thai. I return the favor by saying “welaba” and telling him that it’s goodbye in Luganda (the language my host family spoke in Uganda). Feeling pretty good on the drive back when I get a call. It’s my recruiter, I left my passport and other important documents in his office. Crap. He did keep a photocopy of them, though, and offered to mail the originals back if I was already too far. I drive back, pick up my stuff, and give him an awkward smile as I say goodbye to him in English.

Smooth