A Wild Series of InterviewsThe Unemployment Line

The circumstances leading to my last hiring were quite interesting...

I had responded to an ad that said little more than “Association management professional,” along with confidential contact information. I’m normally skittish about vague postings, but somehow that one intrigued me.

Within a week, I received a call from the company president, just as my family was heading out the door for a weekend in St. Louis. So she called me on my cell, and we had our initial conversation as I headed westward with my family listening intently.

My soon-to-become employer said we’d have to wait two weeks for her to return from her winter home in Florida before we could meet. Coincidentally, my daughters and I planned to visit my in-laws near Tampa the following week. When she told me she had a condo in nearby St. Petersburg, we decided to meet on “The Pier,” of all places.

My interview went well, though I recall at one point being completely freaked when I realized I had zoned out while she was talking. I had just noticed how much my interviewer looked like my sister. Somehow, I covered my flub and managed to respond appropriately.

Perhaps it was the magic of my surroundings — few things compare to the feeling of an ocean breeze on my face — but I prefer to think it was my professional demeanor and obvious business savvy that did the trick. I passed the test.

Next was a conference call between the snowbird, me and the man who would be my immediate supervisor. He worked from his home in Montana.

I really wanted that job. But, to be honest, I was also at a point where I just needed a job — any job. Soon after, I received an offer to be a management-trainee for a reputable jewelry store. There is only one type of retail job I would ever consider, and that was it.

Since my heart was set on the other position, I delayed giving my reply. When I felt I could wait no longer, I called to accept the store manager’s offer. At the time, I sat in my mini-van preparing to attend a school meeting. The next thing I knew, I was bawling like a baby. I went into the meeting once I had regained my composure.

Two hours later, at 9 p.m., the snowbird, who had returned to Indianapolis, called to offer me the job. I met with her the next day to receive the formal offer. Then, feeling like a complete dirtbag, I called the jewelry store manager and revoked my acceptance.

The next four years were wonderful. I used my masterful marketing-communications skills in a professional-yet-laidback environment. But like many good organizations nowadays, the one I served fell victim to the ruthless economy. That was one incredibly long year ago.

by Cynthia Baxter