The Interview

Today I interviewed for my seasonal retail job.

I attended my big retail reunion. Everybody was there. Scampering manager, paper shuffling human resources lady and computer savvy assistant.

“…but it wasn't a dream! It was a place! And you - and you - and you - and you were there.”

"Are you nervous?" asked my queen, before I left, as I stared into the mirror.

"No," I assured her, cinching my tie with a really cool dimple just under the Windsor knot. My hands were steady, my mind was sure. Sure that I didn’t need to worry about a retail interview. I could show up dead and know equal excitement.

“More brains…”

Still, once I’m in the car and down the road, the coffee in my veins offered more concerns than mindless zombism. I jittered with antici…………pation . It wasn’t an “I won’t get the job” jitter--okay, it was exactly that, but for different reasons than you might think. The coffee tapped Morse code reasonable factoids on a left brain node, reminding me that interviewers are anything but constants. This sent my right brain into a scenario free-fall. What if I interviewed with some twenty-something lackey, as familiar with the interview process as Zsa Zsa Gabor was familiar with Motel 6?

Left brain analysis followed:

Q: What's worse than landing a retail job?

A: Being rejected by a retail job.

Now both brain sides are spiraling into chaos. I speed past my turn-off. Great, now I might be late. Nothing makes a better interview first opinion.

Shut up, coffee.

I rein my brain back in, turning all control over to my ego. 

“Bout time,” he says, slapping both lobes into submission as I park the car.

It’s funny. Once I walk in the door, it's like I never left: cosmetics on the bottom floor, home store on the top.

"Where are the elevators?"

That’s not me. That's a customer asking me. Yeah, apparently I look like I belong here. My ego raises my right arm, pointing to the elevator alcove to the back of the building. “It’s over there ma’am.”

It’s time to disengage the ego.

He did his job though. Its 11, I'm on time for my interview.

"They're running late, someone will be with you shortly. Have a seat."

"Thanks." I take one.

So does Lidia, the 11:30 and Bonnie, the 12:00.  The good news is that there are two more seats, should the interviewers current activities run later than 1:00. The HR woman mentions that department managers are conducting the interviews.

Great, that’s just what I was worried about. The coffee in my veins starts brain tapping again.  I try to ignore it. Caffeine is my left shouldered devil whispering failure.  I concentrate on the world around me instead. Somebody’s no longer working in one department.  A manager comes up to get the hours released so that anybody else can work them.

Shortly after 12:00, a side door opens beside the HR counter and a small blonde woman steps out, “Robert?”

I stand, and smile.  I’d like not to, but it’s like the smile is ingrained.  What kind of weird water torture did they do to me the last time I worked retail that I can’t stand without smiling? What other weird idiosyncrasies are programmed in my brain?

” I think I’m getting this rash. Oh!  I forgot my nametag!”

Greeter woman’s nametag says “Nancy.” Nancy leads me down a long corridor. We pass several rooms with people sitting behind desks.  I don’t know these people, but I know who they are. These people are the “executives.” The dukes and duchesses of the retail world.   

Almost at the end of the corridor is a small room.  Nancy peeps her head in the door and says, 

“This’ll work. Come on in Robert.”

I won’t bore you with the interview details. Only one of us should be bored through that. Nancy asked me hypotheticals like, “Tell me about a time when you saw somebody, a friend or a fellow employee, do something dishonest.  How did you handle it?”

I didn’t even think about my response.  The words flew out my mouth like a flock of truisms (yes, truisms travel in flocks and yes, these flocks were spewing from my mouth).  She nodded and moved to the next easy question which was answered by another flock. I was astonished. This was the first time in a long time that anything other than a murder of crows came near my lips.

Fifteen minutes in the interview, Nancy leaves the room.  “I need to check something.  Don’t worry, I’m hiring you!”

Trust me that was the least of my worries.

I know?  I sound like such a pompous jerk!  If you were them would you hire me? Me neither! They’ll let anybody run interviews in retail!  Still, Nancy loves me, and I don’t know why.

Nancy returns with another woman who introduces herself as Betsy. Betsy is the manager I saw at the HR counter asking to get hours opened. She has a position in suits she needs filled.  It’s a commission department and she wants to know if I want it?

After what Nancy’s told me about the non-commissioned hourly wage, commission doesn’t sound too bad. Still, commission is the reason I left retail. I don’t want more sales pressure.  I just want to make a little spare money.

Betsy and I discuss her opening. Betsy’s a great manager. I’d love to work for her. She’s honest. She knows her peoples strengths and their weaknesses. We both agree that when it comes to her opening, I might be the weakest link.  See, although Betsy’s great, her department is what I’ve known in my past retail life as a shark tank. They smell blood, and leave no trace of their prey.

I’ve worked the tank. I’ve been the shark.  No more. As I explain to Betsy, my strengths are building relationships with the customers and the fellow employees—and this part I don’t tell her—even if I’m not planning on being here forever.

So Betsy and I shake hands and agree to stay in touch. 

After Betsy leaves, another woman comes in to talk with Nancy.  There’s some confusion over Lidia and Bonnie, the other two girls interviewing. Nancy wants to interview the one who’s applying for a cosmetics job, and wants the other woman to interview the other. Unfortunately, there is some confusion as to which interviewee is which.

“Bonnie’s the cosmetics girl. Lidia is the other interview.” That’s me. I know the answer. I was sitting in the HR office with both these girls. My ego’s burst his bonds with the “I told you so” tone.

Nancy and the other woman look at me then at each other, and then the problem is solved. The other woman leaves. Yup that’s me. Retail Rob: problem solver. Sigh, I feel myself slipping back into a skin I shed so long ago. 

I try to shake it. Looking at Nancy, I ask, “so when does this seasonal position end?”

Nancy stands and offers a hand and her big retail smile, “This isn’t a seasonal position. We’re hiring you as a regular employee. Welcome aboard.”

I feel an itch in my chest. I think I’m getting a rash. My left brain reminds me that it’s not a rash. It’s only that I’m missing my nametag.