The Final Interview

So, here's my story. I went to college and earned myself a crisp, white, embossed piece of paper with an official stamp and crimpy seal on it that says, "You did it." Got that degree in Public Relations. I didn't let the door hit me in the ass. I flooded the big city with resumes and waited for the offers to come rolling in. And I waited. And waited. And nothing. That's when loser #1 entered my life. Names aren't necessary. A loser is a loser.

* * *

"Excuse me, are there any vending machines in the vicinity?" I asked. "I'm starving."

"No, I'm sorry there aren't any," Ruby responded. Her smile was warm, honest, and heartfelt. I sat back down and waited for the interview of my life. For my dream job. It was almost like it was too good to be true. I swore it fell right out of the sky and into my lap.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you again Ruby, but I'm wondering how much longer this might take? I have to pick my mother up by 4 o'clock for a family dinner, not that it matters to you, but she can be a touch persnickety. Oh, I'm sorry, that came out a bit rude, it wasn't intended that way. I'm a bit flustered. I seem to have left my cell phone at home this morning. So, I can't reach out to her to let her know I could be a bit late," I said.

"Hey, Jane, this woman here, what's your name again, Shirley? Shirley wants to know how much longer she's gonna be waiting to get called back for the interview?" asked Mrs. Ruby Kies. The shiny silver phone on her sparkling white desk rang, again. It's done nothing but ring since I walked in. Nonstop. Non. Stop. "Reception, how may I direct your call? Oh, wonderful!" I've never seen any phone with only one button and no numbers to dial. "Mr. Maxwell Wheaton? Michael's ready for you now," Ruby called out.

And there goes another person who came in well after me. I'll give them ten more minutes, and then I'm leaving. I'll reschedule for another day. Tell them I'm having an aneurysm or ripe gas or something else excuse-worthy.

"It's Suzanne, my name is Suzanne, not Shirley," I say, correcting Ruby. "I've been waiting for quite some time. People who came in after me have already gone back before me. I'm having trouble remembering my scheduled interview time at this point."

Mrs. Jane Hitchcock, according to her gold nameplate, motioned me over to her white desk. "You say your name is Suzanne? Let me see here," said Jane, who appeared to be the other receptionist. They were a tag team. Ruby staffs the phone desk. Jane's the folder lady. Both are very efficient at their jobs. Like they've been doing this all their lives.

Jane breezed through alphabetized tabs of an endless supply of labeled white folders, her fingertips floating over them. Locating the one she sought, mine, she asked, "Suzanne Marie Overton?"

"Yes, that's me. Is it my time to interview yet?" My patience was wearing thin. And my growling stomach told me my interview time had long since passed.

"Not yet, Suzanne," said Jane. "Ruby will call your name when it's your turn. Why don't you sit down and relax, you will get called to interview. I promise. Everyone always does."

* * *

So, let me bring you up to speed. I'm a people person, a man-type people person. I tend to gravitate to men with lackluster lives. My mother wants me to be less gullible, smarter, more selective. Start using the God-given brains I have. I'm blue in the face telling her my intellect came from dad, not some mythical figure. And to make matters worse, I'm closing in on the ripe old age of thirty. I never in a gob-zillion years figured I'd be in this position. Ever. I should be well on my way up a corporate ladder. But, nope, I'm not. I moved away with loser #2 a long time ago just for spite.

Why am I so drawn to guys who don't have their shit together? Is there some invisible code-word tattooed on my forehead? Or is it because they all had dreamy eyes and great bodies? The beginnings with them were great, remarkable in fact, but then, my blurry vision cleared. I started to see through their veneer, see the real person, and I... I've diverged, sorry. Back to the job saga. Every loser-man led me to small towns where a great job wasn't available, so I took what paid the bills. Pretty much their bills. I know, keep your opinions to yourself, I've heard it all from my mother. Lessons learned and all that crap.

Because I followed some idiot guy somewhere, someplace I shouldn't have gone, I never found my dream job. And with each new town, I wound up working as a waitress, a car-park attendant, or as a receptionist to name a few. And my all-time favorite - not - was nanny duty. Never again by the way. I'd rather have my eyes glued shut. Kids crying all day long about a special sippy cup. Barfing for no reason other than to expel food from their bellies. Runny noses and green boogers. Don't get me started on the fountain of snot that never ends. And then dealing with crapped-up pants that ooze out the back. There are not enough surgical gloves in the world. And nose plugs. Have you smelled what comes out of the backside of something that weighs a mere twenty pounds? It's like they went on a jalapeño-taco-bender. Come on!

So, that brings me to today, almost. A few weeks ago, I tossed out loser #6, or #7, whatever, including his sporting goods collection and started fresh. I called my mother and moved back home. Ugh. I took a position as a PR Manager. Finally. Sort of. As it turns out, the job wasn't exactly public relations per se. It would have behooved them to Google exactly what a PR person does. Anyway, it was more like a receptionist/barista job. I make enough to pay my mother for room and board. Life could not be more disappointing.

I routinely check the interwebness job postings daily, and there it was. My dream Public Relations Manager job! I read the posting at least five times, making sure it wasn't some scam job, because they are out there. Like the marketing manager position I interviewed for last year. What a freaking joke. Marketing my ass. It was hawking cheap plastic windows at home shows. I knew I'd never get it, and I didn't want it, especially after I'd called the guy a fraud and a jerk. We did have dinner later that night, though. I know. Yes, that was future loser #8 or #9, but I stopped myself early on. Patted my own back for walking away before that disaster got off the ground.

This Public Relations job is the real deal. It's that once in a lifetime PR job. I'm feeling pretty darn confident about this one. And it says urgent hiring! It didn't mention compensation, but anything's got to be better than what I'm making now. Here's the job posting, so check it out, see for yourself, it's perfect for me:

Urgent Hiring: Public Relations Manager

Seeking a candidate who is capable of maintaining a positive and favorable public image for the corporation. We are a complex worldwide corporation that utilizes the best platforms and people. We are the premier and largest organization of its kind. We offer a diverse culture within our teams.

JOB DESCRIPTION: This is an internal position involving the management of various public relations functions for our external markets. The primary objective is to improve the corporation's branding by addressing negative propaganda by creating substantial positive publicity. We expect you to work closely with the public to ensure our information is disseminated continually and effectively.

ESSENTIAL FUNCTIONS: Manage external public relations and marketing campaigns to utilize all means of transmission: word of mouth, print, television, radio. Coordinate opportunities for external partnerships on an ongoing basis. Create original and engaging content to counteract negative perceptions. Create and plant seed content that will gain positive momentum worldwide.

REQUIRED EDUCATION/EXPERIENCE/SKILL REQUIREMENTS: Prior experience in public relations or related field.

Job Type: Full-time

Relocation: Yes

Travel: No

Contact us immediately at the email below.

Pretty cool, right? I mean, can it get any better? I sent off my email, so now I wait. I took a four-minute shower because I didn't want to miss their call, as if it would happen immediately. I'm so excited about this opportunity! I can't even begin to tell you.

I rushed out the front door for the job I hate, threw my purse in the car, and revved up the engine. I'm going to get this job, I know it. I cut around some little old lady on the highway driving seven miles per hour. I punched the gas pedal, made a quick swerve around a bus, something happened, and the contents of my purse went flying through my car in slow motion. Ugh.

* * *

"Ms. Brenda Laraway? Michael's ready for you now," Ruby called out.

Jane said everyone gets called back, I need to patient. Mother always said patience was a virtue. This has to be the largest corporate lobby I've ever seen. And everything is white. Like everything glows white. I crossed my legs and smoothed out my white suit skirt. I don't remember putting it on today, but it's the perfect outfit. Image is paramount in the dog-eat-dog business world.

It appears everyone else had the same exact idea, dress for success. Loads of people wearing white, and a few in black. Not a flashy colored outfit on the bunch of us. I remember one outfit I wore when I waltzed into a bank for an interview. Needless to say, a figure-fitting, smoking-hot pink dress was not appropriate. But I did look super cute in it. I met loser #4 at that bank.

I was checking out my nail polish when a loud bell rang out. It reminded me of a chime from an orchestra. Everyone's heads sprung up, our eyes widened. A petite young girl came rushing in with a bright red folder, her arms flailing.

"We have a live one! Ruby, push the button, call Michael ASAP!" said Jane. She jumped up and met the girl right in front of my seat. I stared at both of them, not blinking.

"Let me see that folder, Michelle. Yes, Ruby, call Michael!" My eyes switched from Jane to Michelle, to that red folder. I swore I saw it beating, like a heart. Wow, I need to eat, I'm delirious from sitting here all day. No water, no food.

Ruby pushed the single button on her white phone for Michael, and she waved Michelle forward. Michelle ran through the large white doors, headed to see the elusive Michael. This was the last straw. I stood up, smoothed out my skirt, and followed Jane to her desk.

"Excuse me, Jane, I'm going to have to reschedule. It's getting late, at least it feels like it is, and I need to pick up my mother, and I'm starting to see weird things now. I'm sure it's from dehydration, and a touch of starvation. Since I've been sitting here I've watched at least twenty people get called back. And they all arrived after I did. Can you let me know who I need to speak with to reschedule?" Jane looked up and smiled.

"It's Suzanne, right? Your folder is the first one in line now. We have a priority system that we work with, and that can cause some delays in processing. You'll interview with Michael first, and if he believes the position is a perfect fit, he'll send you on to the CEO. If not, you'll come back out here. We'll interview you for a position you're better suited to," said Jane.

"I'm next? Well, that's great! In that case, I won't bother you anymore. Thank you." I mentally ran through answers to standard interview questions. My outfit looked great, considering I'd spent the day sitting. As I smoothed my brown hair back towards the bun at the nape of my neck, for the very first time in my life, I felt pulled together.

* * *

"Ms. Suzanne Overton? Michael's ready for you now," Ruby called out.

I gulped a mouthful of air upon hearing my name. It was time. Phase one with Michael. Ruby smiled, and Jane handed me my white folder. My name, embossed in gold letters, made me feel so important. Wow, this company goes above and beyond.

The doors to what I assumed were Michael's office were huge. Stunning. Massive gleaming white doors with large white handles. I turned back to look at Ruby, and she nodded her head and smiled.

"Go on girl, you got this," said Ruby.

* * *

"Hello, Suzanne. My name is Michael. We'll chat while we head to the CEO's office." Whoa, shit got real, quick. I handed him my folder. We began walking down a very long hallway to another set of doors, shimmering gold doors with incredible details. And they had a regal presence in comparison to Michael's doors. This CEO was a big freaking deal.

"So, tell me about yourself," Michael said, a comforting smile sitting on his lips.

"Ummm... well... I went to college. And I've had loads of loser boyfriends, and odd jobs, and..." OH. MY. GOD. This is what drips out of my mouth? So much for mental preparation. I should turn around right now and walk out. I've lost the job because I'm a moron. We'd reached the halfway point in the hallway. Boy, that went fast.

"I know you're nervous. What do you like to do, what kind of person are you?" asked Michael. I looked up at him and began again with my brain turned on this time.

"I love to read. And cook. And watch the sunset. And I love little white dogs. I've had two so far that I've loved more than anything. Have you ever had a dog? I love sitting at the beach for hours on end listening to crashing waves, and looking out over nothing but water. It's humbling. Like I'm a tiny piece of something so huge. And for the most part, I'm a pretty kind person."

Now I felt like we walked on a slow-moving sidewalk, like at the airport, but when you walk facing the opposite direction for kicks, going nowhere. "I tend to gravitate towards people whose lives are a mess. I've made a ton of mistakes, and some I've made over and over. But I made them with good intentions in mind, I guess. I love my family, even though my mother tends to push my buttons. And I would love to work here as your Public Relations Manager. I know I would excel in this position. But, I do have one concern at the moment. Is there any way I can reach out to my mother and let her know I'm going to be late picking her up?" We had reached the golden doors to the CEO's office, this interview was like a time warp. Fast, slow, fast, stop.

"Can I ask you question, Michael?" I inquired of him.

"Of course, Suzanne," he responded.

"What was the red folder for? It seemed to almost have a heartbeat or something. I said to myself, "Suz, you are seeing things," but I also haven't eaten all day, so that could be the issue. And you know what, I don't even feel hungry anymore."

He smiled. "I'm thrilled you noticed the red folder. Few people take the time to see the little details. To perform as the Public Relations Manager, you'll need to always see the little details. See the little details that will maintain a favorable public image for us. And the folder itself was for someone we had an urgency to deal with. Their services were not required within the corporation at the moment." Well, that's a very professional gesture on this corporation's part. To let someone know immediately that they didn't get the job.

"Suzanne, are you willing to relocate for this position?" asked Michael.

"I would, yes, I would. I'm more than ready for a new adventure," I responded.

"And one last question, Suzanne. What strategies would you use to motivate people?" asked Michael.

"Wow, that's a great question." So this is one of those question/answer scenarios I practiced, but my mind was a blank slate at the moment. Like my brain evaporated, and mushy cooked oatmeal filled my cranial cavity. You got this Suz, take a deep breath, you got this.

"I guess getting and keeping people involved. I'm most motivated when I'm doing what I love, and I assume most people are. So I would make sure that everyone around me got involved. As well as those who I need to disseminate information to. They especially would have to be part of my circle."

Michael smiled at me and reached out to touch my arm. "We've already had someone contact your mother for you. Congratulations, you've passed this phase of the interview process. I'm happy to offer you the job as Public Relations Manager. You're hired."

"Wow. Oh, my gosh. Thank you so much! I... I... I'm so grateful, thank you. So the last interview phase is with the CEO?" I was shaking in my shoes from excitement. I told you I'd get this job!

"Yes, yes it is. He's wonderful. And this phase is a mere formality." Michael pushed open one of the large gold doors, motioning for me to enter.

"God will see you now, Suzanne. He's been waiting for you to arrive."