I almost walked out on an interview yesterday.
Believe me that when I say “almost,” I’m referring to the necessity for me to calm my nerves and firey rage and remind myself that I am a child of God and that He loves me and doesn’t want me to morph into a tornado of fury.
Allow me to gently caress your brain up to speed.
A few days ago, I received a phone call from a friend/colleague of mine from the other universe in which I dwell : theater and film. Let’s call him Fink. He works for a production company and mentioned to me that they were hiring producers and were specifically looking for females or homosexuals.
I happen to be the former, but after a bit more prodding, he revealed that it was most likely temporary and during the day, so I told him I wasn’t interested, had a day job, and was thankful for the call. 5 minutes later, he sent me an email telling me that he was going to put in my name anyway.
This is how it began.
By the time I got home from work, I got a phone call asking me if I was interested in coming in to interview with Fink’s company. I can’t help but take a moment to note that this receptionist did not give me an address, the position they were hiring for, parking or arrival instructions, or any other pertinent details. I blame my failure to notice this on a) the fact that I already knew where Fink worked and didn’t think to ask, b) It was something like 5:17 and my brain had already turned off and c) because I take for granted that people are competent in the roles assigned to them.
Isn’t this just one big mistake parade? This is fun. We should do this more often.
Over the next few days, I was a big blob of confusion and panic. I was out of my element and had no experience whatsoever in the field. I wanted to cancel the interview, but didn’t want to make Fink look bad, and didn’t want to burn a bridge with the company. In addition, every single person I talked to told me to go and just use it as an opportunity to just meet them. Tell the truth they said. Interview THEM! they said. At least it’ll be good blog fodder they said.
Actually, that last one was me, and it’s becoming quite a hindrance to my decision-making skills.
So I went. The front of the building had a key pad and a locked door, which was not discussed in my call with the receptionist. Luckily, I was let in by an employee who was also stuck outside.
After being led to a conference room with 3 interviewers, I am given absolutely no new information. I am simply asked what I’m looking for there today.
I explained that neither Fink nor the receptionist gave much detail so I just know I’m here on a referral and that they’re looking to hire for a position.
After I opened the floor for explanation, there was silence. Absolute, stone-cold silence.
So I decided to hand them the resumes I prepared for such an occasion – the first my work resume and the second my “production” resume, which was really just a resume with 1 film, and a ton of theater credits. (Read: absolutely unrelated).
I told them my story, and explained in what I would like to think was a genuine, friendly, and lighthearted manner the situation in which I found myself at their office, noting again that I still wasn’t sure what they were looking for but that I thought it would be silly to not come in just to meet them and see why they called.
My implied question was again unanswered. Instead, I was asked where I saw myself in 3-5 years.
After realizing that I had absolutely nothing to do with anything, all three got up and left, two of which left my resume on the table.
Which is no small gesture.
On their way out, they mentioned something about someone else potentially stopping in. I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I sat and stared at the resumes returned to me, and decided to gather my things.
And then Smee came in. I made a comment that I was abandoned. Smee said it was 5pm and what did I expect. I wanted to tell Smee to go put something somewhere uncomfortable or get a receptionist that’s competent enough to not schedule me if I can’t be seen, but I didn’t. That’s when Smee asked me to tell him why I was there. I told him he missed that speech already.
He was not amused.
That’s when I thought hey.. whatever. Let’s do this. A few short days ago i was trying to sexily hang by my ankles from a pole – I can handle this. So I did the shpeal again, gave him one of the returned resumes, and ended it with jazz hands. That’s when he asked what I thought they did there. I said that Fink mentioned commercials.
Smee went out of his way to assure me that commercials were only 10% of what they did. And that they actually did marketing and recruitment videos and that I could have gotten online and checked out their stuff. Smee made sure to let me know that I didn’t do my research (using those exact words, actually) and that maybe after I did, I could come back and let them know I did and maybe if they’re hiring interns sometime, I could work my way up to something after slinging coffee for a few years.
This is when the tornado of fury started gathering momentum.
I’m not sure why these people were all not under the understanding that they called me. I’m not sure why every single one of them failed to mention what the position they were hiring was.
Smee said some off-handed comment about how he didn’t really know what they were looking for, but probably something more like production and squeezed in that note about doing my research on the company again. And then said he guessed he was the last to see me and have a good evening.
So I went to the elevator, absolutely enraged. Every little BOOP!! that it spit at me on the way down tapped on the too-thin layer separating my body from completely being consumed by angry hellfire.
I skipped lunch to make it to this interview. I decided to be fearless and turn it into a meeting opportunity. I thought that maybe I should just stop being a cynic and just show up and see what happens. That for once in my life, I should just relax and not prep for 5 hours, especially when I did not seek this opportunity on my own. I went out against my own cynical nature and thought that maybe there was a hidden prize in all this nonsense.
I’ll tell you what: there is a prize. It’s a big fat whack in themetaphorical testicles and a good healthy dose of degradation.
Turns out cynicism has its perks. ♣