If you thought this was going to be a post about bull-riding you are oh so wrong! Although there may (or may not) have been a time in my life when the sport intrigued me, my invincible days went out the window about the same time my first child entered the picture. As any (okay, most) mother will admit, once you affix that title ("mother," "mom," "mama," "hey-you-lady-who-feeds-me") to your name, your wild side settles to the back corner and your instinctual side kicks in.
Today my oldest child had his first job interview - which, for the record, is almost harder to digest than that first day of kindergarten or even the infamous driver's licence! - and I had a chance to impart some good ol' motherly advise to him before he walked out the door. "No pressure," I stated to an already nervous kid, "but you've got eight seconds."
He looked at me quizzically (more so than usually) and asked what in the world I was talking about, so I explained, "It takes eight seconds to make a first impression." This logic he seemed to understand. He returned to his room and came out wearing slacks and a tie. I can only hope that he walked into that interview with his head held high, but at least I know that his attire sent the appropriate message. And, while I can't say for sure what his eight-second impact was on the manager, I do know this: my son walked away from his first interview with his first job!
And, a proud tear formed in his mother's eye (followed by another tear for the reminder of her faded youth).