The 24-Hour Job Interview

OK. It wasn't exactly an interview, and it didn't exactly last 24 hours.

Last week, for Leap Year, Disneyland stayed open for 24 hours straight for the first time ever and, of course you know the BF and I had to be there.

Partially because it’s a chance to participate in a historical event, and partially because the BF and I just wanted to find out if we were still young enough to stay up for 24 hours in a row.

So there we were, at 9:30 in the morning last Wednesday, standing in line for breakfast at the Riverbelle Terrace in Frontierland — or arguably in Adventureland, I'm never quite sure where one stops and the other begins — after already having been in the park for three and a half hours. But everyone was riding high and exclaiming their intentions of making it through the entire 24 hours.

A group of young men slightly behind us in line were particularly jocular and it was hard not to eavesdrop on their conversation, let alone get involved, when one of them announced with absolute certainty that the way to enjoy this monumental occasion was to "stick with the hairdresser!"

At which point, I naturally had to shout out that I was a manicurist and then partake of the secret salon handshake — OK, as far as I know, there is no secret salon handshake ... is there? But we did a joyous fist bump and some fraternity-boy-like grunting and hollering to show the crowd that we were serious professionals who knew how to rock the D-land party.

This also led to a conversation about where who was from and whether or not I was in need of a job in southern California.

Donald (I'm pretty sure that's what he said his name was) was pretty heartbroken that I was not interested in relocating. He owns a salon and he has had a very difficult time finding a good nail tech.

I gave him my card (he didn't have any of his) and told him to get in touch with me after the festivities and subsequent sleeping as I have a "pretty good" Internet presence and I thought maybe I could give him and his salon a shout-out to see if I could drive some talent his way.

He seemed like a pretty cool guy.

Sadly, I have not heard from him. So I can't give you any other information about him or his salon than I already have.

The BF has a theory that Donald went home, looked at my website, checked out my Facebook, found this blog, and realized that he had met THE Maggie Franklin and now he's just too intimidated by my greatness to contact me.

I like the BF's theory much better than the more probable one that he simply lost my card during the remaining 20.5 hours of standing in lines and riding rides.

But I still maintain that I had a business meeting and a job interview and that should mean that my Disneyland trip is tax deductible.