So, today I had my first in-person, face-to-face job interview since I transitioned a couple of months ago. I haven't heard back officially yet, but it felt like... but I'm getting ahead of the story. Let me back up a bit.

Way back in March, before I'd transitioned, I got a friend of a friend at a company I'd like to work at to put in my resume, under their employee referral program. She invited me in to meet her and some other folks over coffee and see if we mutually felt like it would be a "good fit;" we did. She submitted my resume for two positions for which I was highly qualified. Several of the people I met seemed to hit it off with me, and promised to put in a good word for me with HR and the hiring managers.

I never heard back.

Fast forward to three weeks ago. I saw on craigslist that the same company now had an opening for... well, me, pretty much. There are, as far as I know, five people in the Seattle metro area with the specified qualifications, myself being one, and I happened to know that at least three of the other four were not currently actively looking for work. I knew of the existence of a fifth such person but hadn't met him (until he interviewed me today, but that's another story). So, I sent in the same resume I'd submitted before, only with my new name and email address, listing the same friend of a friend as my employee referral. I sent her an email letting her know what was going on.

Lo and behold, a week later I got a call asking to schedule a phone interview, which happened a week after that. It went swimmingly, so they asked me to come in for four grueling hours of inquisition face-to-face. People in other professions goggle at me when I tell them that, but it's pretty standard for us tech geeks. That got scheduled for today.

Two days ago, it occurred to me that I had nothing suitable to wear to a job interview as a woman, even for a tech geek position at a laid-back (even by Seattle standards) company. I emailed a couple of female programmer friends for help, and got some good advice--the upshot of which was that I could probably cobble together something passable from what I had, but I really ought to make an emergency shopping trip and try to find something better. In my thank-you reply I said as much, adding wistfully, "Just wishing I had a fashion adviser to go with me...." I wasn't expecting either of them to volunteer; one is known for having a "fashion dungeon" (her words) and the other lives two states away. Two big states.

The next morning I flippantly updated my Facebook status to say, "I have a job interview tomorrow, and I haven't a thing to wear." Within a couple of hours, a friend who's only known me since my transition--my best male friend's girlfriend, with whom I'd already bonded a bit, but wouldn't have dreamed of presuming upon--replied, "Let's shop!" I responded, "You're on!" and we organized an expedition for that evening.

After introducing me to the bargain hunter's paradise that is Marshall's, where we found some really good stuff at great prices but not quite the perfect thing, she realized--get this--we wear exactly the same sizes. Except for shoes, of course. Which is pretty astounding, given that I'm nearly a foot taller than her, and she's quite slender and petite. Well, coincidences like this do happen--just not all the freaking time, as you'd be led to expect from TG fiction. Right?

So we went back to her place to look for something I could borrow, and it turned out she had two huge closets stuffed with clothes I would be delirious to own myself. Within minutes we had found a high-waisted pencil skirt with a matching belt and a simple black U-neck t-shirt that I knew instantly would be perfect for my interview, so I tried them on and they fit--you guessed it--perfectly.

Even so, she insisted on throwing a few more armsful of stuff at me to take home and try on just 'cause she thought it would look good on me. Then she informed me that she makes a habit of cleaning out her closets every few months to make room for new stuff, and was planning to just give all her cast-offs to me from now on. If I wanted them.

I mean, come on--this stuff just doesn't happen in real life--only in soppy wish-fulfillment TG fiction, right? ...Right?

Which brings us back to today. As I started to say, I haven't heard back officially yet, but it felt like it went really well. If so, they'll be calling me in for round 2 shortly, and then if I survive that without a TKO they'll extend an offer and I'll leave the ranks of the unemployed. That's a lot of "ifs," so wish me luck or knock wood or tell me to break a leg, or whatever your preferred superstition or expression of support may be.

What's on for tomorrow? Well, I've got an appointment with one of our very own BCTS authors who works at a local salon (I won't say who without permission, which I haven't asked for) to cut and color my hair, just before I go in to get my new driver license with my new name and the 'M' replaced with an 'F.' I figure, those pictures are always awful anyway and I'm going to be stuck with it for the next five years, so I might as well make it as un-awful as I can.

Can you tell I'm enjoying the ride?