As I sat in the lobby waiting
endlessly for a job interview, I wished my life was like a book, where you
could flip to the last page, to see how it ends, then read the rest of the book,
from start to finish.
According to the college magazine
articles that I had read on how to land a job, this interview was highly
unusual. It was 1983, and the internet wasn’t born yet. We didn’t read blogs; we read paper.
I was applying for a job as an
analyst with a marketing research firm.
A recent graduate from the College of Business, I believed that writing
marketing reports would combine my newfound business acumen, with my love for
writing.
The firm’s owner, a matronly woman,
and her toy pet poodle, Fluffy, greeted me.
Yes, Fluffy was a "real" dog, which barked, and everything.
According to the owner, Fluffy never
missed a day of work and he was good with clients. I was asked, “Was my record as good as
Fluffy's?” I was not amused.
During the interview, Fluffy sat smack
dab in the middle of the small room, lodged right between the lady owner, and
myself. He would not budge for love, nor
money.
Here I was, smartly groomed in my
new navy blue business suit, on the edge of my seat, trying to look interested,
as all of the job-hunting articles said I should. Meanwhile, teetering on the edge of my seat,
I was trying to impress both the matronly owner, and the dog.
Every time I moved, the little black
fluff ball growled at me.
I pictured this dog greeting clients,
and tried not to laugh.
I searched my mind for any
information gleaned through articles on how to make friends with a toy poodle,
and came up empty. I had been reading,
"Job Hunting Made Easy", not "Pet Training Made Easy."
The owner considered the dog an
employee. Did he get workman's
comp.? Better yet, what would the
health department say? Fluffy was
allowed in the eating area, slobbering up cake crumbs off the laboratory
kitchen’s floor. The analyst job
entailed baking cakes, eating the results, and writing the marketing research
study report. My cakes always fall. Flatter than a doggy biscuit.
The owner and her secretary, the
only two humans working there, seemed at ease with a dog at work. Unbelievable!
Needless to say, Fluffy, official
floor cake crumb eater extraordinaire, saw me as a threat to his position with
the firm, and hated me. Fluffy knew I
lied, when I said I loved all animals.
How would I explain this to family
and friends? This business major who had
completed all the marketing, and salesmanship courses, failed to sell herself,
again. Nobody would believe this
"dog gone" story.
Somehow, this sugar cake job just
didn’t live up to my college-fed expectations; nor did it live up to my newly
acquired Dean’s List reputation.
A year after graduation, during one
of the worst recessions in history, I found that my employment package
contained no job, a truck full of stupid job interview “Let Them Eat Cake”
questions, and one insipid interview with a fluffy dog. My fellow Business School graduates, of
course, all had fat well-fed wallet careers, complete with sign-on
bonuses. This produced desperation.
The last page of my book, however,
had yet to be written.
I eventually learned to answer
stupid job interview questions with perseverance, patience, and
assertiveness. I also learned not to
answer with flippancy. But, most importantly, I learned never lie to a fluffy
dog. Bring doggy treats. Hide them in your briefcase.
The last page? My last job, as a Technical Training Writer
finally earned me a living as a writer, a job that finally combined my business
sense with my writing abilities. Now, as
a “downsized” unemployed Technical Training Writer, my next job will be turning
anecdotes into personal true stories, then selling them, as any Business
Saleswoman Extraordinaire would. The
proof is not in impressing a fluffy, black dog, a dog that eats cake.
A famous matron, once said, “Let
them eat cake.” The proof is not in the
cake. “The proof is in the
pudding.” If you are reading this true
story, it means that I have sold it.
At my next job, the sign will read,
“No pets allowed.”
