During one of his many failed job interviews, Travis Hanson panics after the employer asks him, "Tell me a little bit about yourself", and ends up answering the question by telling his entire life story. From being kidnapped at age three, through being abused on different occasions, through being homeless for a year, through incessant social awkwardness, to learning how to deal with it all without the aid of any therapy, drugs or alcohol. He reveals every significant event, both good and bad, that has made him who he is today and is shockingly open and honest about telling all of this to a complete stranger. Life is full of ups and downs, that's just life. And whether we view them as positive or negative, events happen in our lives only when we are ready for them to happen and not a second sooner. It's not all about what happens to us, it's about how we react to those events that matters the most

"Tell Me A Little Bit About Yourself"

By Travis Hanson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Travis Hanson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4685-3660-7

Contents

1......................12......................113......................204......................295......................366......................387......................558......................789......................8910.....................10311.....................11912.....................12913.....................14214.....................16015.....................17116.....................191

Chapter One

JOB INTERVIEWS SUCK. All of them. Even the ones that went well enough for me to land that sought after job that made me feel like a prostitute because I got paid to do stuff I didn't want to do and had to be friendly to people I didn't like. Those sucked too.

It's the whole process that makes me want to spit up. From the desperation, to the nervousness, to the forced conversations with a tool of a manager, to the anxiety of not knowing if you made a good enough first impression to get the job you really didn't want but need. I have been on a lot of interviews in my life and they all have been the same and have had those same ingredients. The last one I went on was no different and was just how I remembered them all to be.

First off, I already feel like a piece of feces because I haven't had anything to do in who knows how long, I have no money, no confidence, and everyone is constantly asking in a condescending way if I have found a job yet, like it's something I can just go pick up off the shelf at WalMart. On top of that, the hopelessness is starting to settle in because after spending the last couple of weeks walking into every restaurant, clothing store, office building, and any other building that would let me in, asking if they were hiring, I keep getting the same answer followed by, "We are always accepting applications though if you would like to fill one out." So I have filled out at least fifty seven of those damn things by now and turned my entire life history in for complete strangers to read, and still not one call.

I don't know what else to do at this point, it seems I have applied everywhere, so I decide to take a few days "off " from job hunting and regroup.

Neither the phone has rang nor has my butt left the couch in about three days now and I'm really starting to worry about myself and then one day I get woken up at the crack of noon by a phone call from the Abercrombie store informing me they are hiring a new shirt folder and they would like me to come in for an interview. My first instinct is to not show up because folding shirts for a living would almost be as bad as not doing anything for a living, but the whore in me comes out and thinks about the regular paycheck and I tell myself how it can't be that bad. So after arguing with myself for an hour and a half, I decide to put my pride aside and go meet this over enthusiastic manager named Todd who is really looking forward to meeting me.

So I get into the shower and try to scrub all the laying around on the couch watching decade old reruns of sitcoms funk off of me, shave the three day old stubble and Cheeto residue off my face, slap some Febreze on, and put on my least wrinkled button up shirt and the khakis I once wore to a wedding. I'm already feeling better about myself because I am wearing grown up clothes and have somewhere to be at a certain time and that's exciting. But as soon as I have managed to dress myself to the best of my abilities, I start panicking. I have to rehearse what I am going to say and how I am going to answer the in depth interview questions like, "Why should we hire you?" and "What is your definition of a team player?" and "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I don't want my answers to sound rehearsed but I do want to be able to talk myself up without sounding cocky or fake, so it's a delicate blend.

But the question that makes me panic the most though isn't even really a question. It's a 'put you on the spot so much that you have no idea how to respond' demand: "Tell me a little bit about yourself." I never know how to answer that. What do they want to know? I know they are looking more at how I answer it than what I actually say, but where do I begin? At the beginning or do I just tell them how much of a go getter I am and how much I like those little chocolate donuts from the grocery store? Do I keep it strictly work related or do I reveal some of my darkest secrets? What is appropriate to tell a complete stranger? In the past I have pretty much kept it short and sweet, probably too short because after I have stopped talking, they just stare at me waiting to see if that's all there really is to me. That has never really worked out too well for me so I think maybe I should change my tactics this time.

I still have some time before I have to be there, but I go fire up the car anyway because I'm getting antsy. If I'm early it will just give me more time to calm myself down and get familiar with the surroundings. The closer I get to the interview, the more nervous I get and the baby blue shirt I'm wearing doesn't seem like such a good idea anymore because the dark blue sweat stains in my pits are growing by the second and they are impossible to hide. I crank the air conditioning up and the stereo down because I am almost there and for some reason I can't find where I'm going with the stereo on. The parking lot is empty but I find a parking spot about a half mile away from the entrance and sit in my car. I still have like forty five minutes before I have to go get interrogated, so I might as well go over my spontaneous answers again.

By now I have rehearsed my answers so much that they just sound stupid, so I decide to just wing it and I didn't want this stupid job anyway, and this will just be a practice interview for the next one I get. As I am sitting there in my car over thinking everything and looking at my watch every seventeen seconds, I start to feel that knot in my stomach forming and the nervous gas starts kicking in. Those nervous farts are impossible to control, but I have to try to get a handle on them, so I take one last look at myself in the rear view mirror to check for things hanging out of my nose, and get out of my car and try to walk the farts off. As I am walking and farting, I notice the first impression I am about to make. My baby blue shirt is now dark blue on both sides from my pits down to my belt from being soaking wet, my mouth is so dry from nerves I doubt I will be able to pronounce my name, my hands are profusely sweating even though they feel like I have kept them in the freezer for the last two hours, and my nervous farts are almost non stop, like my butt is trying to blow out a trick candle. Who wouldn't want to hire this?

So I get to the front door, take one last deep breath, and go to push the door open even though the sign says pull. Perfect. After I figure out how to open a door correctly, I am greeted by a very cute, outgoing young lady wearing Capri's who would like to know how she can help me. I muster up enough spit to ask for the manager and tell her I am here for an interview and I notice the instant change in attitude from her. She is now better than me. One more ego boost for me before I have to go talk myself up to some qualified stranger who will then decide if I am good enough to be part of their team and fold shirts for six dollars an hour. She goes to the back to get the manager and it seems to take forever. I know they aren't doing anything back there except talking about me and...