Interview

I moved up to Vermont 15 days ago, and since then, have put in at least a dozen (and probably more) job applications for every sort of work ranging from newspaper copy editor to grocery store stockperson; from substitute teacher to deli counterperson. I've attached a resume with some of these applications, and have tried to be as honest as possible about my current situation:

Just moved to Burlington from Pennsylvania. Came up here to write and to do whatever work I need to do to support my writing until my writing supports me. Looking for full-time or part-time work. Available immediately.

I've tried to state these facts without sounding desperate (which I've bordered on at times the last two weeks, as I've watched my available cash slowly dwindle) or uninterested in a long-term full-time job doing something that, given my writing and my master's degree (and the possibility that I'll be teaching someplace in the spring), probably wouldn't constitute much more than a temporary fix, a way to bring in money right now, until I can do what I REALLY want to do.

The first interview I had (with a temporary agency) didn't really surprise me. It's the nature of a temp agency to place qualified (and sometimes OVER-qualified) people in jobs they might not take otherwise with the understanding that it's not gonna be forever, because, after all, that's why they're a TEMP agency, and not a job placement service. I had no qualms about telling the recruiter at this agency that I might be teaching in the spring, etc etc etc, and she certainly didn't seem surprised to hear it.

The only sticking point was that I couldn't begin work immediately, not until I furnished them with a copy of my social security card (proof of my eligibility to work), which I lost LONG ago. I went straight from the agency to the library to print out a couple Important Supporting Documents, and then walked to the Social Security Administration offices over on Pearl Street to get a duplicate card. I was prepared for an hour-long or more wait, followed by a Gubmint Song-n-Dance routine, but the whole thing, including the wait, took maybe ten minutes.

With my proof of eligibility to work in hand, I called the agency and told them I had my documentation and that I could take the bus out there and drop it off with them that afternoon. And the woman's response kind of took me aback: "There's no hurry on that. You don't need to drop that off right away." I said no, it's no problem, I'll bring it right out, and I hung up.

Her response struck me as odd as soon as she said it. If the only way I can start working is to drop this documentation off to them, I thought, then why are they telling me there's "no hurry?"

I DID tell them I wanted to get working right away, right?

Perhaps NOT surprisingly, it's been over a week and I haven't gotten a callback from this agency since.

The second interview I had was at a grocery store downtown. Since one of the biggest priorities wherever you live is to EAT, one of the first things I did two weeks ago today when I awoke was FIND A GROCERY STORE. I liked this co-op from the moment I stepped inside. As I wrote in an earlier post, this move north has felt like the closing of a cycle that, in some ways, started in 1992 when my first wife left, but in other ways in 1997, when I decided to leave Gettysburg and move back to the Philly burbs... thus, in a cool piece of cyclical synchronicity of the type that has seemed to accompany my every step on this move, I noticed outside of this market on my second visit that some produce was stacked on overturned crates from HOLLABAUGH BROTHERS ORCHARD, in Adams County, right outside of Gettysburg. Seeing those crates felt right and good.

More than that, though, the market seemed to embody my affinity for locally owned non-chain stores. That was why I liked Henning's so much. I knew that even if the prices were a little higher at this co-op, I'd be doing most of my shopping there, and more than that, it seemed like it'd be a cool place to work. Thus, when I saw a posting for open positions, I applied... and a few days later, got a call from the grocery manager, telling me she was interested in interviewing me. I called back and the woman seemed to be enthusiastic --"I'm REALLY interested in interviewing you"--and so we set an interview up.

The interview itself went well. I liked the woman I interviewed with; I tried to be candid about my long-term plans and immediate availability, and what hours I could work (there were overnight shifts available; a lot, I told her, was contingent on where I'd be living come October 1; if I was living in town within walking distance or relying on the bus). None of my candor seemed to bother the woman; she expressed some concerns regarding my lack of grocery store experience, but all in all, I left with a good feeling about the store and about my prospects. She told me I could possibly start work the next day; "I just need to check your references."

O.K.

Never... heard... another... word... back.

Not even after I called her and left a voicemail message telling her that I appreciated talking to her, and that she should call me if she had trouble getting hold of any of my references, or if she had any questions... leaving her ample opportunity and excuse to CALL ME BACK. I've heard nothing. For a while, I wondered what had happened between her telling me I could start the next day and NOW. Had one of my references dissed me?

As Marty McFly said in Back To The Future, "What happened, Doc? Did we turn into assholes?"

The third interview was at a big chain book-and-music-store-and-cafe down on Church Street. (Not to give you too many clues, but anyone who knows Burlington will know where this was.) On one of my many walks past the store that weekend, I spotted a BARRISTA WANTED sign in the window, and when I went into the store to inquire, I got Bad Sign Number One. "Here," the clerk said, handing me a card with a URL printed on it. "This is all done online."

I went online to fill out an application, and after the requisite requests for previous work experience, education, etc, I was channeled into (what was at least) a 10-page, multiple-choice psychological profile that was probably one of the most ridiculous pre-employment screening activities I'd ever undertaken. Each question was actually a statement with four choices of response--Strongly agree, Agree, Disagree, Strongly disagree-- and really, some of the statements were literally one step removed in tone from I think killing babies is really cool or It's OK to steal from an employer if you don't get caught.

I mean, really.

For a fucking BARRISTA position.

I need work, I thought, and so I filled out the form and hit SUBMIT.

A few days later, I got a call from the store's manager (or one of the store's managers) asking me to come in for an interview, which I did on Tuesday. Again, I tried to be forthright and candid about my availability and the reasons I wanted to work there. I had library experience and I liked the environment of the store... liked being around books... liked being in a position where I could help people. I told her I could work at any position in the store, and she said that the cafe positions were the ones that need filled; I said OK, fine. I stumbled a little bit when she asked me what my holiday availability would be (I told her I wanted a week off at Christmas, since my family's in PA), but then told her that if I had to take limited time off on holiday weekends, that would be no problem, I understood how retail worked, I'd work around it.

She then asked me what the best part of working at the library was (I told her the people I worked with, and helping the students) and what the WORST part was (I told her that the short-staffing at my last job was stressful, distracting and exhausting). Everything seemed to be going well...

...and then... I don't remember what I said to elicit this response, but she said "Well, I certainly appreciate your honesty."

I don't know what unseemly truth made her say that, but it was then that I knew I was screwed.

What, I thought, did she expect I'd be DIShonest? Does she figure that people are going to LIE and say things that she wants to hear just to get a great eight dollar an hour job in her cafe or bookstore??

I realized, as I left the interview, that it probably wasn't going to happen; that she said "she'd call me" but I'd better not hold my breath.

I also realized, as I walked home, that really, there was no job that would ever be worth lying to get.

Which brings me to interview four, this morning, at a cafe on one of the downtown side streets that feeds Church Street. I'd found this place the second day that I'd been in town; saw the sign in the front door that said FULL TIME COUNTER HELP NEEDED; and stopped in. One of the owners of the place told me that they had someone in mind for the position, but that they weren't sure that the person was going to accept, and could I stop back after Tuesday? If the job was still open then, we could talk.

Sounded good to me. I kept this cafe in the back of my mind, and in the middle of last week, passed by and saw that the sign was indeed still in the door. I stopped in, and was told that they were busy, but could I stop in to talk to the owner the next day before 10 am. Unfortunately, I couldn't get down there the next day... I thought I'd blown it... but yesterday, when I walked past again, the sign was still there, and I went in and asked, and got the same response: Stop in tomorrow before 10.

Which I did this morning. After waiting a few minutes, one of the owners came out and talked to me. I could tell that he was very involved and serious about filling his position, and again, I was forthright with him about my short-term and long term plans, and my availability (evenings might be problematic because of transportation). He asked me some great questions, including "Why should I want to hire you?" I told him I thought I had the kind of personality that would be good for his place; I'd get along well with the staff and the customers; I was outgoing and friendly without being pushy.

And then he said "Do you have any questions for me?" I asked him what time I would be there to open, was he the owner or a manager... and then I asked him the big one, the one I've wanted to ask three other prospective employers the last fourteen days:

"What would make you NOT want to hire me?"

He looked a little surprised, not unpleasantly so, and then he took a breath. "Well, honesty can sometimes be a little hard to take. I think you'd be great. You've got a nice face, a good personality, I think you'd get along well with the customers. But..." He took a breath. "Something about you scares me."

He said that he knew that my writing was my passion and that I would probably be most passionate about THAT... which didn't seem to be a problem... but then he said he needed to bring someone in that he knew wouldn't be "just short term." And I said "Well, I'd be lying if I said that I was going to be here long term. I mean, I'm already looking for teaching jobs for the spring." Hell, for this fall: the one interview and job thing that has seemed to proceed without a hitch is my application to substitute teach for the Burlington School District.

It was probably the best interview I've ever had, because I felt like I knew what he was thinking... his answer eliminated the post-interview non-callback second-guessing. I knew why, even though he probably COULD hire me, he probably wasn't going to take the risk. He needed someone full-time, long-term. I wasn't that person. We both knew it. It felt refreshing to know, to have it out in the open.

When I shook his hand and said I was glad to have talked to him, I didn't mean it the way I said "Nice to meet you" at the temp agency or the grocery store or the bookstore. I sincerely meant it.

When I left the cafe, I walked to a diner and got breakfast, and as I waited for my order, I wrote him the following note:

Dear (not gonna put his name in here),

It feels odd to write a THANK YOU note to someone who's interviewed me for a job I'm probably not going to get, but nonetheless, I wanted to write you and say THANK YOU for talking to me this morning about the position at your cafe.

I've noticed, in a few of the interviews I've had, that I got a feeling from the interviewer that something wasn't quite clicking... and then, when I got no callback. found myself wondering what I did or said ("Was my body language wrong? Did I need to wipe something off my nose or the corner of my mouth?" etc etc) or didn't do or didn't say. Talking to you, though, gave me a lot of insight.

I am certain, as I told you, that I'd be a good counterperson there; certain that the other staff would enjoy working with me, and that the customers would enjoy seeing me and dealing with me; confident that I could handle the schedule, the pay, the hours, and whatever skills I needed to pick up to do the job well.

What I am not confident or certain of is that I could come into a full-time position knowing that I was ultimately going to be a short-timer. But I'm looking for teaching positions and other writing work, and since that's my passion, as you observed, that will come first.

So a full-time position would not work out for either of us, unless I took it with the shared understanding that eventually, I'd be leaving for something else.

Anyway, when I asked you why you might not hire me, I'm glad you answered the way you did, and I wanted to let you know that I really appreciated it. To me, anything but my writing will be "just something to earn money until my writing can support me." To you, though, your restaurant is much more than that, and I totally understand your wariness (fear) of hiring someone who's ultimately "not that invested."

So, again, thank you.

If you should find that you need part-time help of any kind on evenings or Saturdays, let me know. As with Burlington at large, I got a good feeling from your place and from our talk, and I would be happy to give you a few hours a week if needed.

Take care and best of luck!

In reading over this, I am reminded (as I often am) of a passage from Walden, where Thoreau writes...

Not long since, a strolling Indian went to sell baskets at the house of a well-known lawyer in my neighborhood. "Do you wish to buy any baskets?" he asked. "No, we do not want any," was the reply. "What!" exclaimed the Indian as he went out the gate, "do you mean to starve us?" Having seen his industrious white neighbors so well off - that the lawyer had only to weave arguments, and, by some magic, wealth and standing followed - he had said to himself: I will go into business; I will weave baskets; it is a thing which I can do. Thinking that when he had made the baskets he would have done his part, and then it would be the white man's to buy them. He had not discovered that it was necessary for him to make it worth the other's while to buy them, or at least make him think that it was so, or to make something else which it would be worth his while to buy...

In some ways, I've approached my job search in much the same way this apocryphal Indian approached his baskets. I've assumed that since I am here and want to get whatever job I can get as soon as I can, that someone will just accommodate me.

Talking to the cafe owner reminded me that I need to take a little bit more of a balanced view of this whole process.

In that sense, it was another typically Vermont experience for me. I went into this whole thing looking for a job, and in that interview, got something quite a bit more valuable.

Insight.