Sarah Long Writes

Yeah I know the title makes no sense but I like it so bleeh!

I’ve been spending a lot of painstaking hours applying for jobs in Los Angeles. My first interview on Monday went something like this:

Interviewer who looked like a typical Hollywood producer with too much bling: Let me print out your resume. Hmm… looks like you don’t have much experience in social media marketing.

Me: I did create a blog and a Facebook account for a Farmers Insurance ag-

I: You’re not going to find a job in Los Angeles with the lack of experience you have. You’ll be lucky to find even something part-time. Everyone wants this job, and frankly writers are really only a commodity.

Me: (wide-eyed)

Interviewer goes on about this for ten minutes, while I wait to politely ask why the hell he even called me in for an interview if he didn’t like my resume.

I: But maybe we can find something entry-level for you here. I’ll be in touch.

I know I should have said something, but I didn’t want to burn any bridges at the time. I kinda wish I had though, as the entire experience was absolutely ridiculous. I drove home so frustrated and depressed.

But then today I found a job post seeking an in-house writer. The company seems easygoing and actually kinda fun (plus, the benefits look awesome). As part of my application, they asked me to write a 350-word piece on plumbing, noting that they wanted to see me make something interesting out of a usually boring subject.

So here’s my piece:

I would never have guessed my toilet would turn evil. It had always been such an unassuming object that served one essential purpose but was otherwise generally unimportant. Perhaps my lack of appreciation for it was what led the sadistic porcelain throne to destroy my house.

It started on a Tuesday morning. I was in the shower, minding my own business, when suddenly I heard my toilet flush. I peered through the shower door. Nobody was there. My confusion was overridden by a sudden, harsh burst of heat on my back. I screamed as I ducked out of the scorching water and blew open the shower door.

Then (and I swear this actually happened), the toilet let out a hollow, echoing cackle. I stepped back, my eyes scanning its porcelain finish in an effort to understand how it could make such a noise. Its silver handle squeaked as it slowly, deliberately moved down.

Suddenly every faucet in the house was spewing water. I rushed to the sink to turn it off, but the handles seemed to no longer have an affect on the plumbing. The shower was still going full blast, also refusing to be turned off.

And oddly, it seemed that each drain was completely clogged. Water quickly began filling the sink and shower floor. I fumbled through my room and grabbed my cell phone.

“Roto-Rooter, how may I help you?” a gruff voice sounded.

“My faucets won’t turn off, please, get someone over here now.”

“Uh, that’s possible?”

“You’re a plumber, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know?”

“Yeah, uh, we’ll get someone over there right away.”

Fifteen minutes passed. The kitchen sink had already overfilled and was now spewing onto my wood floors. Another deep, evil laugh sounded from the bathroom upstairs as water began seeping through the ceiling.

The walls creaked unsteadily. I gathered some important belongings and went outside. Within an hour my entire house was flooded. The neighbors all looked on in horror as a dark voice rang out from the top floor bathroom.

“I am more powerful than you know.”

I never took my toilets for granted again.

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That’s interesting, right? I kinda like it 🙂