You want me at your workplace. Really.

My last post and the recollection of having to tell a new employer I was pregnant brought to mind the many interviews I've had in the 13 years since getting that college degree.

In my 20s, I roamed. Frequently. From age 23 to 29, I worked at four newspapers before heading to Arkansas. I stayed here 5 years, then Hubs and I figured we'd try heading back to our home state of Texas.

Opportunity presented itself in the spring of 2004 in San Antonio.

It was the most memorable job interview ever.

Hubs and I had just wrapped up a week's vacation in Big Bend when we headed to San Antonio to discuss our prospects there.

By late afternoon, I'd met with several editors and reporters. Hubs, meanwhile, was hanging out with photographers and photo editors.

That particular day, a longtime editor happened to be leaving for a new job at a sister newspaper.

So the higher-ups brought in a mariachi band for the festivities.

I stood, swaying in appreciation, in a hallway just off the newsroom.

Suddenly, one member of the ensemble headed in my direction. He was laughing, beckoning.

I looked behind me. I looked around me.

Oh my God, is he coming toward me?

"I don't work here," I mouthed to the young, grinning man as he approached. "No, no!"

But he grabbed my hand and tugged.

Now I have done my share of dancing -- the Chicken Dance, the Macarena, you name it, I've probably attempted it. But only under the influence of alcohol and dim lighting.

Now, here I was, dressed in a a fitted, interview-appropriate skirt and shirt, being hauled in front of the newsroom. Sober. Under fluorescent lighting.

He made me do the twist. In front of prospective employers. He took me all the way down to the floor.

"Hey, man." A photographer nudged Hubs, who had joined the gathering but was too busy talking to pay attention to the mariachi band.

"Isn't that your wife up there?"

Hubs turned, just as my ass was inches from the floor, my hips still swiveling, face flushed with humiliation.

"Oh. Yeah. That's Cathy. You can't take her anywhere."