I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

Balance.

You're being interviewed for a job.

You're not in it for the money,

but for the experience.

The interviewer is a short man with a bushy beard

and a dimpled smile.

He looks like he'd be a nice guy to work with.

While you're waiting,

a man dressed in rags and Mardi Gras beads

enters the room.

He's muttering to himself.

Something about aliens or demons or -

or something.

He gets called in first,

since they're going by alphabetical order.

He's only in there for about ten minutes,

and then you get called in.

Over the course of an hour,

you feel like you've impressed the interviewer

with your extensive resume

and interesting personal skills.

Your great shining smile seems like it encourages him,

and he smiles back.

You really feel like you've got this interview down pat.

When all's said and done, you leave the building,

thinking you'll get the job.

After all, there are only a few applicants,

and you're pretty confident in yourself.

Eventually you receive a letter in the mail with the news.

No, you didn't get the job.

Guess who did?