I grumpily got on the train Friday morning, armed with my iPod and the newest edition of VOGUE. My interview was scheduled for 1:00, the earlier train got into New York at 11:40, the later train got in at 12:40, which wasn't enough time to get to where I needed to be. So I got to Grand Central at 11:40 and sat for almost an hour until it was time to head over to the West side. I arrived at the office building about 10 minutes early, and stepped off the elevator on the 5th floor, taking the twists and turns until I found the suite I was looking for. I noticed that all the other offices had fancy gold plates with their company name on it. The one I was interviewing for just had the company name printed on a piece of computer paper (at least it wasn't hand written, right?). This is where I'd like say that Red Flag #1 was waving wilding in my face.
I opened the door to find one open space with areas separated by trees and large plants. Yes, but where are the offices? The cubicles? The bustling employees? Red Flag #2 made it's appearance. I was greeted by the assistant and told to sit down at the conference "area." I filled out a few forms and was told that the president's lunch had just arrived and I would have to sit tight while he finished. "My interview is with the president?" I thought to myself. Red Flag #3. I sat there waiting, admiring how nice the conference table was, how polished the floors were, and noticed in the window across the way a small gray cat peering down at the traffic below. I wished with all my mite to be that cat, basking in the sunshine of that window, instead of sitting at a conference table in a weird office. I sat some more. The conference table was in between two whiteboards, the one on the left had a funny drawing of a man labeled as "Super Jake," and the one on the right had two faces and in between the two faces was a drawing of, poop! Drawn in brown and labeled so, complete with squiggly lines to indicate it's stench. Red Flags #4 & #5. I kept myself occupied by looking around the office some more and kept coming back to the huge plants placed all over the room. I had just spent the weekend planting and doing yard work with my mother, I couldn't help but wonder who was responsible for watering these monstrous plants.
Finally, the president was done with his lunch. He came over to me and introduced himself as Jack, and the man next to him introduced himself to me as Super Jake. I couldn't tell if that was a joke or not, did he really want me to refer to him as Super? I mean, I just met the guy, how do I know what's so super about him? Super Strange, maybe. Needless to say, Red Flag #6 waved hello at me.
So, Frick & Frack sat down to interview me, firing questions at me left and right. Because this job was in rock and not urban, I was completely relaxed because it didn't mean much to me. I was viewing this really as interview practice. Before I knew it the whole thing was over and I realized I hadn't been asked about why I was qualified for the job, told what the job would entail, or the details about what the company did. Red Flag #7. I was told they'd have a decision by Monday, said my goodbye's and checked my cell phone as I walked out the door.
A text message was awaiting me. It was from a strange number, and it read "Hey Intern Chick, I stole your number from your resume. Sorry you have to sit over there by yourself while everyone eats, I'd come talk to you but it's rude to talk with my mouth full." The assistant had sent me a text while I was sitting at the conference table. Strange, yes, but kind of nice I'd supposed.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around New York, saying hello to my old friends I hadn't seen since I left in December and then went home. Monday came and went, no phone call. Tuesday came and went. I expected as much, men never call when they say they will, even men who need to hire an assistant apparently. Today they e-mailed me to inform me they'd filled the position. I can't say I was surprised, although it didn't say explicitly, I could tell that our difference in musical preferences had played a factor. This was something that concerned me as well, and something I was repeatedly asked about during the interview. If I'm being honest here, working in rock would have upset me, it would have made me feel as though I'd failed in what I set out to do. So I guess this was a blessing in disguise, the kind of disguise that has "You're Still Broke & Unemployed!" written all over it.
