Job hunting sucks. You have to keep giving, giving, giving, and until you get a job offer, you get nothing back. There's lots of rejection, unreturned phone calls, as you lose your sense of self worth with each passing day.

And then, your family, who does love you, tells you to do the unthinkable, yet again. Apply for a job as a maid. A maid?! A maid?! What is happening to my world?

Desperate times call for desperate measures. My poor brother had already forked out several thousand dollars to keep my children and I fed and under our own roof. It was a difficult situation at best. He loved us, but he and his wife were not prepared to continue to completely support another household, and I had no right to expect it. So, I started calling the local maid service companies.

Now here's the thing: With so many of my past interviews I'd been told time and time again that I was overqualified. And I was, and I knew it, and they knew it. And to a potential employer that means you get labeled as a risk.

And, who could blame them? They were right. Office jobs, secretarial stuff, assembly lines — one look at my resume and you know that this chick will not be with us long. I'm not bragging here. I am who I am, and that's a woman with 28 years of broadcast television experience in sales, production, news, and marketing.

But, lo and behold, a local franchise company took a risk and offered me the opportunity to scrub other people's toilets, stoves, floors, doors and baseboards along with mopping and vacuuming and a little light dusting. Please, who wouldn't want this job?

I started almost immediately. I arrived early. To make a good first impression I was spiffily dressed in my dark blue shorts and pink and white striped buttondown shirt with white socks and pristine white sneakers.

In case you haven't heard, crying during an interview is considered bad form. There I was being interviewed by one of those deadly women in their late forties — beautiful body and face, $500 suit, $300 shoes, a real ball-buster and the General Sales Manager of almost 40 television sales reps.

Now, granted, I'm not beautiful (uh, by traditional standards I mean), but I can hold my own, and that day I dressed to perfection. I wore my most expensive gray silk and very hip pants suit with my dyed red snake skin four inch heels (tough to walk in I can tell you!) finished off with a matching bag and my day timer. Oh, yeah, I was poised to bust a few balls myself.

As I sat in the interview, and keeping in mind that there probably isn't a person on earth who has had more job interviews in one lifetime than me, I knew I was scoring big time. I aced every question. My body language was impeccable. Hey, if you change jobs as often as I've been known to do, you can't help but improve your interviewing skills.

Lisa gave no indication of being a warm, touchy, feely person. She was balls to the walls success and all business. She fired the questions. I volleyed the answers. It was going perfectly. I knew she would offer the job to me.

And just as I was internally figuring out what sort of base and commission structure I should plan on asking for, BAM! She hit me with the oh-so-wrong question of, "I guess it's been a little tough with the divorce and Hurricane Katrina..."