LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Let your creative energy lead the way today — you’ve got fewer limits than you think! See what’s possible by trying, rather than worrying, and you may find yourself in a brand new position by tomorrow.
How much time should you put into preparing for a job interview? I’m guessing it’s somewhere between less than a week and, well, more than thirty seconds while waiting for the light to change on the corner of Broadway and Cambie. Guess which end of the spectrum I was on.
Yeah, I was sitting at home with Tupper curled up on my lap watching “The View”, empathizing with poor Dame Edna with nothing to say as the others ranted on American healthcare and wondering how many people didn’t realize it wasn’t Barbara Walters, when my cell rang.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Nothing.” Even with Tamara, I wasn’t about to confess to watching “The View”.
“Well, get over here. One of the partners says he’ll interview you for the assistant position. But you gotta get here in twenty minutes. He’s in meetings the rest of the day.”
With traffic, I was fifteen minutes away. Thankfully, I’d showered after my morning jog, but that left me with five minutes to tame my hair and pick out the “professional” outfit least in need of ironing. Forget the makeup. I rushed to the car, muttering hateful thoughts about Tamara. Maybe she still didn’t want me work at the firm after all.
A friendly receptionist escorted me right into Barry Lisduff’s office. “He’ll be with you in just a moment.” I stood in front of a framed photograph of an impossibly green pastoral setting, using the reflection in the glass as an aid for a collar adjustment and a final battle with a defiant tuft just above my left ear.
“Have you been?”
I turned and there stood a smiling, portly, balding man in his late thirties. His forehead glistened from the overhead lighting. Florescent? It didn’t seem fitting for a trendy advertising firm. But then neither did the image of Barry Lisduff. I needn’t have worried about ironing. He appeared to have been sleeping in his striped Hilfiger for at least the last four days.
“Been where?” I asked as I forced a congenial look. Never did tame the tuft.
“Ireland. Snapped that a half hour outside of Cork. Lovely place.”
“It looks amazing.” I cringed. Amazing. This was an ad firm. Was that the best I could come up with? Hadn’t I made fun of Ellen DeGeneres’ critiques on “Idol” for overusing the imprecise word as praise? Perhaps watching TV is indeed bad for you. (Horrid thought, no?)
After official introductions, we assumed our seats and Barry began his stream of consciousness interview. He’d say a word and ask for my first thought. Shoelaces: the bane of preschoolers and joggers alike. Rain: Vancouver plays the yang to Southern California’s yin. Justin Bieber: a live version of Alvin the Chipmunk. Bowling: who still does that? those shoes?! Sledge hockey: grit, guts, no glory for Canada. He shot out two dozen terms. I got the point. He was trying to determine if I could think on my feet and if I was up on current Pop Culture. It was an adrenaline rush of an interview, sort of like Password for Hire. I appreciated the quick succession of terms being thrown at me; it prevented me from beating myself up for a poor response. (I really don’t know how “hunky” slipped out when he said David Hasselhoff. Had I meant to say “hairy”?)
He paused, glanced at my résumé on his desk, took a sip from his coffee mug. In my head, I tried to formulate a response for “Why do you want to get into advertising?” He was bound to ask.
Barry Lisduff stared quizzically at me. Was my renegade patch of hair bothering him? I continued to smile under the pressure. Then he glanced at his watch, looked back at me and said, “Job’s yours. Can you start tomorrow?”
I bounced up off my chair. Thank God for the massive desk in between us or I would have hugged him. After two rounds of my saying, “Really?!” and him nodding, I accepted.
Tamara was in a meeting so I couldn’t immediately share the news with her. Driving home, it all seemed too good to be true. How did I pull that off? What about other candidates? What about my lack of training? What about what others in the firm were looking for?
What the hell was I getting myself into?
GOT THE CALL FROM DENTON @ 5:30 LAST NITE, JUST AS I WAS HEADING OUT FOR MY WEEKLY RUN W/THE LADIES.
“I GOT YOU 5 WEEKS OF VACATION TIME AND 3 MONTHS’ SEVERANCE. CONSIDERING YOU WERE DRUNK ON THE JOB, THAT’S A COUP.”
“MAN, THAT’S AMAZING!” I SAID. “I OWE YOU, MAN.”
“DAMN RIGHT. YOU’RE TAKING ME TO LA TERRAZZA FOR DINNER NEXT WEEK. AND I’M DRINKING. YOU, I MIGHT ADVISE AGAINST IT.”
WHAT A LOAD OFF. I WAS SO PSYCHED, I SWEAR IT AFFECTED MY RUN. I KEPT UP W/THE MIDDLE PACK, WOMEN IN THEIR FORTIES (& A 23 YR OLD COMING OFF KNEE SURGERY). TOTALLY ROCKED IT!
THE SEVERANCE, THE RUN, THE CANUCKS’ WIN,…I’VE GOT A WHOLE NEW MINDSET TODAY. TWEAKED OUR BUSINESS PLAN, READ SOME INTERNET ARTICLES ON BEING A WINNING (aka WEALTHY) REAL ESTATE AGENT & THEN DROVE OVER TO LOOK @ OUR FUTURE REAL ESTATE OFFICE B/F CRUISING THRU THE DUNBAR NEIGHBOURHOOD & THE POSH POCKETS CLOSER TO UBC. SO MANY GORGEOUS HOMES, SO MUCH $$ TO BE HAD. MAN, I CAN DO THIS. MARTY & I CAN EFFIN’ DO THIS.
RE/MAX, WATCH YOUR BACK!