The search for solid, regular employment continues….
While I had a flicker of hope, it was not to be and, if anything, became a learning experience. As all great stories begin – “Once Upon A Time……”
I applied to a company who posted a position online, on one of the many workboard websites I check regularly. This company was not far from where I lived and I was excited by the fact that I could be a manageable distance to drive, while continuing my career in a logical direction – Communications.
Off went my carefully crafted resume, with ample references and even a letter of referral. I am set! I don’t hear anything for a couple of weeks, which is fine, because with the drama of family life in Boweryville, I honestly didn’t have the brain capacity to handle any more.
The day before the funeral, I receive an email, asking if I would come for an interview the day after the funeral. Knowing how much sleep I’d had (very little) and how much needed to be after the burial (very much) I requested the following day – which happened to be Friday the 13th.
I should share that this is a business operated on a family farm and I felt it was rather providential that only weeks after severing one farm from my life, that there might be an opportunity to have a new one enter it. A drive-by of the establishment gave me a heads-up of what to expect and how one might approach an interview there. I decided to tone down my usual appearance, since the funky hair, full war-paint and dynamic-or-I’maseriousworkinggirl ensemble might be overbearing for this occasion.
I enter the building in perfect time for my interview and I’m introduced to the lady who will interview me. She’s having a reaction to me, and it ain’t positive. She looks me up and down and the eyebrows go up. What. The. Hell?
We settle in a side room and the first question is rather direct, and to the point.
“So, why did YOU apply for THIS job?” she asks.
What she meant to say is, “Why does someone who dresses and looks like you do, want to work on a farm?” So I tell her I grew up on a farm. Her eyebrows shoot up again. She doesn’t believe me! I can’t believe it, but I’m on the sharp end of a stereotype! She can’t see me on farm and talking crops. Little does she know, but I have stories of prolapsed calf beds that can rival that of a veterinarians. I explain about the farm I grew up on, the animals we had, the life I enjoyed there. I tell her about showing horses, grooming and tacking them – about the laying hens we had as well as the pigs. She’s no poker player. She’s doubtful.
We talk about what the job is, what the pay is (:|) what the industry is and what the needs are for promoting and communicating their message in the 21st Century. I broach the subject of the first generation website they are currently using, just in time for her husband to join us.
“Website people have been trying to tell us what to do with our website for years!” he proclaimed. “They don’t know our company. They don’t know our product. Our website is fine for our customers!”
And that, my friends, was the death knell of this conversation.
There’s no point in hiring a communications hack if you have nothing new to communicate. Just sayin’.
I left the interview satisfied that I’d given it my all. I didn’t expect to hear back from them to tell me I didn’t get the job. It would have been a waste of both of our time.
Imagine my surprise when the following Tuesday comes around and First Born Son tells me I’ve got a job. He heard a message being left on the machine from my lady friend – saying how I’d make a great addition to the team.
I play it again. Still very confused. The Big Guy listens to it and comes to the conclusion that this lady was not at the same interview I was at. Certainly not on the same page! I think it over and my stomach, which has always been a great gauge for any decision I make, tells me this isn’t for me.
So I call her and tell her I’m surprised she offered me the job, given that I didn’t think she particularly cared for me. She’s stunned. I’m stunned that she’s stunned.
I spend the next few minutes explaining that I don’t think we are a good fit, and she spends the following minutes trying to convince me that we are. She wants to better the wage offer, but would like to do it in person – would I come down and meet her son, who runs the business?
Against my better judgement, I agree to, but not before I point out that there needs to be a creative environment, regardless of who they hire, otherwise, why bother with a marketing position?
The sequel interview goes no better. The son is nice, but the conversation is stilted. I feel like the bride in an arranged marriage – that I’ll just agree to this proposition. They offer a “bit” more money and I ask for the evening to make a decision. All the way home, I know the decision is basically made. If for no other reason, than my gut is telling me this isn’t going to work.
“Your gut is never wrong,” The Big Guy tells me. “Let it go.”
So I do and pray for a sign that I didn’t make a big mistake. An hour later I go through the job websites and find four new prospects….