by Leslie Wolfe
She had no idea what job she had applied for. She had no information allowing her to be more precise, and this was considered the best possible vague answer to this tricky question. This is going to be tough, she braced herself.
Mr. Isaac was watching her closely, slowly nodding as she spoke. He asked the second question. "How would you describe yourself in terms of your ability to work as a member of a team?"
Standard interview questions, what a disappointment; they promised me none of this dance. Alex almost sighed.
"I have had many opportunities in both academics and work experience to develop my skills as a team player. My experience as a market research team leader also helped me learn the role of team member. I viewed my position as that of group leader and individual contributor at the same time. I ensured that everyone in my group had an equal opportunity to contribute, maintained excellent communication among group members, and coordinated their energies toward reaching our team's goal."
Mr. Isaac looked down at the file in front of him and scribbled something on the print of her résumé. She continued to look directly at him, while smiling and waiting for the next question.
"Are you currently employed?"
"Yes," she lied, without any hesitation, knowing she had a better chance of getting a job if no one knew she was currently unemployed.
"Why would you like to leave your current employer? It is a nice company, from what I hear." Mr. Isaac leaned forward, curious to hear her answer. It came without delay or hesitation.
"I feel I am not challenged enough in my current position. I would like to move toward a more challenging, more rewarding position, which will allow me to fully utilize my skills and my abilities, and also offer me opportunity for self-improvement and professional growth."
"What a load of crap!" Mr. Isaac stood up abruptly, startling her.
She froze. Oh, my God!
Mr. Isaac continued, pacing angrily through his office.
"I promised you a straightforward recruiting process, if you were honest with your answers. Yesterday you were willing to discuss. Today you are giving me nothing but a nicely wrapped, well-rehearsed pile of bullshit. What happened?"
She started to speak, but her voice was gone. She made an effort, cleared her throat, took in a deep breath, and gave it her best shot.
"I am sorry, sir, but the habit of giving these standard answers took over. You did ask me some fairly standard HR questions. You are right, though, I am sorry for wasting your time with all this." She managed a faint smile.
"Are you willing to answer some questions without lying, leaving stuff out, or sugarcoating anything?"
"Yes, sir." She could feel sweat at the roots of her hair.
"Be careful, one more time with this kind of crap and we stop right there, understood?"
"Yes, sir." Do I really want to work for this guy?
"OK, again, what kind of job are you looking for?"
She realized she had been holding her breath. Here's your truth, mister. Let's see if you can handle it. She exhaled the air in her lungs and answered, looking straight into his eyes.
"I'm looking for a job that will comfortably pay my bills without boring me to death, have me living in fear, and slowly killing my spirit. I want to have some fun doing that job; I want some flexibility; and I want to work with smart, open-minded people who can teach me a thing or two." She stopped and held her breath again, waiting for his reaction.
"Was it painful?" he asked. His eyes were smiling, but his face was still serious.
Surprise. "Excuse me?"
"To tell the truth for a change." He sat up and walked around the desk toward her.
"No, it was actually quite relieving to hear myself say it." She smiled shyly, aware she was blushing. "I haven't done that in a while." She did not dare look him in the eye.
He was now standing in front of her. She stood up abruptly, ready to run. He reached out his hand and gave her a firm handshake.
"Then it's really a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hoffmann. Let's continue. Please sit down. Are you currently employed?"
"No," she sighed.
"What happened?"
"My boss used to be quite a nice guy. However, one day he went berserk. He started arguing with me without reason. He said I had the wrong attitude, and that a customer had complained that I was swearing while fixing her network."
"Were you?"
"Well, the strangest thing is that I was never with that customer. I was scheduled to go, but traded accounts with a colleague, because that specific customer was close to his home. I figured the boss just wanted me out, and I left. That was no life for me; I can't handle that kind of attitude. There was no fixing the situation; the more I tried to clarify the issue, the more aggravated he would get. His reaction came as a complete surprise. Until then, he had shown only appreciation toward my performance."
"Did he fire you?"
"No. After trying to talk to him, I realized I had no other options, and I quit. I couldn't just sit there, knowing he wanted me gone. I didn't want to wait for that shoe to drop, wondering when it was going to happen."
"Most people would have stayed put, while looking for something else. Pay a few more bills in the meantime," Mr. Isaac said, watching her reaction.
"I am not most people. In order to focus on damage control, I had to acknowledge the damage and discard all unnecessary weight, such as the dismissal waiting to happen pretending to be my job."
Mr. Isaac couldn't help but chuckle. "A good sense of humor is your best ally when times turn tough," he said, and resumed the interview questions. "I need to know how you see yourself as part of a team. No standard answer, please."
Alex took a deep breath. This was going to be one interview to remember.
"Well, it depends. A team is good to have around when you need someone's help, although I'm more comfortable on my own. I like to take full responsibility and full credit for my actions. The one thing I hate the most is office politics."
"Office politics?"
"Yes. For example, I'm minding my own business, while one coworker has nothing better to do and starts saying stuff about me. Before I know it, I end up asked to explain things I had nothing to do with. Or, here's another example, I am not given a promotion, because I am the only one who was too busy with work to be aware that the boss bought a new car, so I never had a chance to congratulate him on his excellent choice."
Alex looked up and smiled. It will be a miracle if I get this job, she said to herself.
"I totally agree, but this is not a perfect world we are living in. So, how do you manage to fit in the average corporate environment?" Mr. Isaac continued, undisturbed.
"I didn't say I can't do it; I just said I hated it," Alex replied.
"Oh. True. Let's move on. Where do you see yourself in five years?" Mr. Isaac gave an encouraging smile, as if to warn her to be honest.
"I really don't know; there are too many things to consider. If I win the lottery, then we might discuss what I really want to do in five years. If my luck continues to work the way it did so far, in five years I will be, most likely, interviewing for yet another job, and giving some recruiter exactly the answers he wants to hear. It's hard to say," she said, then shrugged and waited for another question.
"Do you have any questions for me?" Mr. Isaac offered.
Alex sighed thoughtfully.
"How many steps are in this interviewing process?"
"Just this. Based on this one interview, I will make my decision and let you know."
OK, now I know for sure I screwed up. He won't hire me, Alex thought. She was surprised to realize how saddened she was by this thought. She couldn't help feeling that the man in front of her was quite remarkable, and she would have liked him to appreciate her. She continued, out of curiosity.
"Thank you. I asked on my online form, 'Who are you?" And I'd also like to know what job did I apply for?"
Mr. Isaac leaned forward and smiled.
&nb
sp; "I created The Agency 17 years ago, when a friend of mine, a business owner, got into some trouble. He had grown suspicious that someone was stealing his customer files and selling the info to his competition. In order to find out who that was, he hired me, not as an investigator, but as a payroll clerk. No one pays attention to the accounting clerks," he said with a chuckle and paused, letting the story and all its implications sink in.
As it did, surprise showed on her face. She saw the ramifications, the possibilities, and grew excited about the idea. Yes. Obviously, this idea worked. I'd love to do that for a living, yes I would, she thought, thinking fast. Not a moment of boredom, no office politics, actually use my brain, my dream come true. Plus they have to be paying really well. However, her enthusiasm abruptly cooled, why the hell is he telling me this stuff if he's not even going to call me for a second interview? She did not realize how well the man could read her thoughts, just by looking at her transparent features and bright, expressive eyes.
"Starting from that case," he continued, "I realized there was growing potential on the market for this kind of service. We are currently a small team of four people, and we need a fifth person. I'm looking specifically for someone with a little more computer knowledge than we currently have among us, to be able to work as an IT executive and assist with email and data-related fraud concerns."
She almost had tears in her eyes. I can't believe they won't hire me—no other job will ever compare, she thought. Mr. Isaac was now standing up, most likely preparing to show her out. Somehow, she found the courage and asked.
"Mr. Isaac, will you please tell me where I screwed up?"
"Who said you did? Let's go meet the guys. And please, call me Tom."
Her exhilarated scream was loud enough to make the receptionist wonder what the hell was going on back there.
~~~End Preview~~~
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Copyright © 2016 Leslie Wolfe
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