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So, trying not to fall out of updating.

Tall people are cool.

I wish I was tall.

I went into an interview last week at the University of Maryland at College Park, for a flash developer position at the National Foreign Language Center. (So much for journalism, right?)

The receptionist/secretary/person was a really tall guy. Really. Tall.

But it wouldn't even have phased me if not for what happened after the Committee of Twelve (ok, not really 12, but that gives it a little flava. Sounds almost apocalyptic.) whispered instructions over the phone to their anything-but-little assistant.

He put down the phone and slowly stood up from the chair that was way too small for him. And if he were a few inches taller, I'd imagine he'd have to bent his head slightly to the right, just to be able to stand up. Either that or poke his head straight through the ceiling. (But I guess that latter option doesn't make any sense, cause then he wouldn't be able to move. It's hard to put into words what I am picturing in my head right now. Let's just say that it involves a very Mr. Fantastic sort of neck.)

But I digress (as usual. and always parenthetically.).

It was hard to tell if he was being nice in his quiet movements, or if he was secretly plotting the doom of my flat feet which were trapped in uncomfortable semi-dress shoes. (Don't you just love how society declares that anything that impresses or viewed as "nice" must make you suffer physically?)

In any case, he said softly, "follow me."

Oh, such ominous words.

Every time I hear those words, my mind is sent to the times of Tom and Jerry and Looney Tunes. Where a person would say "follow me," or more often, "walk this way," and the writers would make those subtle semantic jokes they like so much. The "follower" would imitate the motions of the leader to the dot.

But even if I wanted to do something like that, I couldn't in this situation.

It seemed like the word "me" had not even left his lips and he was already halfway out the door. Meanwhile, I was still processing the words 20 feet away.

The whole time, I ran quietly behind him to catch up, afraid that he would notice and ashamed of my own genetically disposition toward a more physically lower stature. For every one step he took, I must have taken 5.

I was only glad to be greeted with an offer of water at the end of our journey through the winding halls that reminded me of my elementary school with its semi-sterile smell and bad acoustics, and the stairway's tiled walls looked like it belonged more rightfully in a middle school locker room.

And it was in this state of mind that I entered the inquisition of the Committee of Twelve. (to be continued...???)

So. Tall people. They are lucky.

Did you know that for every extra inch of height, a person earns an extra $1000 a year?