The Interview That Nearly Broke Me (and the Power Grid)

So let’s set the scene It’s the night before the interview. The big one. The one that’s supposed to change my life and catapult me into my flight attendant era . I had my outfit laid out, my speech rehearsed, my delusions packed and ready. I was prepared to walk into that hotel ballroom like Beyoncé entering a press conference.
And then BOOM.

A storm hit. Like, a real deal, power snatching, Wi-Fi slaying storm. The kind of storm that makes you question if you paid your light bill (you did) or if God just doesn’t want you to succeed (unclear).

The power goes out. Completely. No lights. No hair tools. No warm shower. No last minute ironing. No outfit steaming. No motivational playlist. Just me, a flickering candle, and a half dead phone battery.

So what do I do? I did what any desperate, overly ambitious, slightly unhinged woman would do:
I got ready at the gym.
Yep. Your girl marched into the 24 hour fitness center with a duffel bag full of makeup, a portable mirror, and a dream. I used the gym sink to beat my face, flat ironed my hair in the locker room like I was prepping for prom, and spritzed myself in a cloud of body spray that screamed, “Hire me or at least don’t sit too close.”

I pulled up to the hotel interview looking like an airbrushed fantasy, even though deep down I was already sweating through my blazer and running on three sips of pre workout.

And then… I saw them.
100+ other hopefuls, all lined up outside like it was a concert. A mix of nervous smiles, overly enthusiastic energy, and people talking about how being a flight attendant had been their lifelong dream. (Okay, Emily. Calm down.)

I was standing there, clutching my resume and trying to manifest chill energy when I heard this girl behind me say,

“If I don’t get this job, I’m gonna move back in with my ex who still thinks crypto is gonna come back.”
And that’s when I knew I wasn’t the only one betting my sanity on this interview.

Now here’s where it gets insane.

As we moved into the group portion of the interview, it became clear this wasn’t just a job audition. This was Hunger Games meets corporate cheerleader Olympics.

We had to sit in circles and do icebreakers like we were at some weird motivational summer camp. One girl clapped after every person spoke. Another guy kept raising his hand to ask if we’d get “unlimited buddy passes.” (Sir, this isn’t a Q&A for Delta.)

And THEN oh baby, THEN someone dropped a bomb.

This guy, in the middle of sharing his “why I want to be a flight attendant” speech, just casually blurts out,

“I’m doing this because last year, I was going to kill myself.”

Screech. Record scratch. Silence.
Now listen, we are all about mental health awareness and I am deeply empathetic but sir… that was not on the script. That wasn’t even on the backup script. I mean, what do you even say after that? “Wow, okay… and what are your strengths?”

The energy in the room was unhinged. People were crying. People were shaking. Someone dropped a folder. I started wondering if I was on a hidden camera show.

Meanwhile, another girl bless her heart kept fumbling her four sentence script like she was trying to remember the Pythagorean theorem.

“Hi, my name is… uhm… my name is… wait… oh God… what’s my name again?”

And then there was me. Lying through my teeth like the award-winning actress I am.

“Why do you want to be a flight attendant?” they asked.

“Oh, I just have this deep passion for helping people. I love being part of a team. And I’m obsessed with travel!”

Girl, please. I was obsessed with getting flued out without having to open my wallet. But I smiled, nodded like a Miss Universe contestant, and nailed every fake-sincere answer like it was my Broadway debut.

The interview was long. So long. Like, painfully long. I didn’t know if I was in a job assessment or a psychological thriller. At one point, I was just trying to stay awake and not roll my eyes when someone said, “This is my dream job, I just feel like the sky is my home.” (Okay, bird.)

But somehow… I made it through.

I got the offer. I got the email. I was headed to Vegas for training.

And let me tell you, I felt like I’d just won something big. I texted everyone: “Your girl is about to be in the skyyyyyy!” I celebrated with fries and a cocktail. I packed my bags like I was heading off to a glamorous adventure.

Little did I know what was waiting for me in Vegas. (Spoiler: cult vibes, weird classmates, and a roommate I’d unknowingly met in a nightclub bathroom a year earlier.)

But that’s a story for Blog 3…