I'm Pam, the pregnant proffie, the one who got slammed by my students last semester.After enduring that humiliation, I hesitantly decided to go through with my plan to hit the job market running. Well, no, that isn’t totally true. I was eight months pregnant and ginormous when I hit the job market at a respectable waddle. Phone interviews went brilliantly, aside from the general disruption to my pee schedule. Apparently, pregnancy reduces your bladder to the size of a peanut. And yes—I did have to pee during one of my phone interviews and by golly I did.
I was fortunate to get two campus interviews at other schools and I prepared and prepared and prepared. Of course, in addition to planning out my presentation, sample undergrad lesson, speech about my publications, and my arsenal of witty quips and stories, I also had to prepare for the inevitable inconveniences that come with being supa-pregnant.
Thinking of my first campus visit, with three sit-down meals with important people, I knew it was inevitable—I would get something on my shirt. Of course I would—my belly stuck out a foot further than the rest of me. I prepared. I went out the night before I left to get a Tide Stain Pen, and Oxy Stain Stick, and some other generic brand that looked promising. In addition to all that, I folded up a plain black maternity t-shirt, put it in a Ziploc baggie, and stashed it in my briefcase alongside the stain sticks. If all else failed, if I exploded a meal all over myself that could not be erased with a stain stick, I could to go the ladies room and change my shirt.
Three meals came and went. Did I dribble my orange juice? Did I get southwest chicken pasta or ranch dressing on my shirt? No. No. I didn't get anything on my shirt. Instead, I split my pants. During my job talk, I bent down get a page of my notes that fell and I heard the ripping sound. I was wearing bright green maternity underpants. Seriously.
And I got the job.