Several years ago, I interviewed at a fashion magazine, let’s call it Harper's Bazaar, for a position working as an assistant to the Editor, say, Glenda Bailey. I thought, wow, what a cool gig this could be. I could interact with the movers and shakers of the fashion world (albeit at Harpers).
Surprisingly enough, Ms. Editor was on time for my trifling little interview with her, and I thought it went very well. Although, just looking around her office, the disheveled nature of everything had me wondering, did she thrive in chaos, or was she out of control in her own world.
While sitting in her sky-high house of glamour, directly behind her in the distance was the façade of the company I used to work for, a few blocks from the Javitz center. I immediately had a flashback to those days working for a hotelier who was brash, brazen and did not suffer other people’s mistakes (or questioned his vision) lightly.
She was talking, talking, talking about her fabulous fashion mag, and as my gaze slowly drifted back from looking outside the window to the center of her eyes, I realized she wasn’t really looking at me at all – just jabbering on about this and that.
Anyway, the interview wrapped up, but not before she tested my writing skills on-the-fly so to speak. She asked me to write a quick memo to Jean-Paul Gaultier, thanking him for his flowers, and apologize for not being able to make his event that evening.
Sure, no problem. I sat at the computer outside her office, just opposite the other assistant – Ms. Assistant barely looked or gestured to me, a sign indeed that she was unhappy in her job. Would I be if I were hired?
So, I start typing, and wanting to impress Ms. Editor, I began the letter with “Dear Monsieur Gaultier,"
"What a pleasure it was to receive your fantastic flowers this afternoon..."
Then I wrapped it up quick, thanked Ms. Editor for her time, and left. But before I left, Ms. Editor asked me, “Why did you shift your eyes around during my interview with you?” I said I wasn’t aware that I had, and had usually been complemented on my doing this, as it was very expressive and endearing to people who spoke with me. They said it made them feel like they were being listened to intently, by expressing myself to them with my facial expressions.
And here I didn’t think she paid much attention to me during our initial conversation.
Later on, I called her corporate office and rescinded my application. They were shocked because they had put me on the short list of candidates to fill the 'highly exalted position'. When they asked me why, I told them, in very diplomatic terms, that I did not want to work with someone who critiqued me in such an unprofessional way. I’d already worked for one tyrant in my career, and I wasn’t about to subject myself to such humility again. I basically told them that she should find herself another pet monkey to throw bananas at.
Surprisingly enough, Ms. Editor was on time for my trifling little interview with her, and I thought it went very well. Although, just looking around her office, the disheveled nature of everything had me wondering, did she thrive in chaos, or was she out of control in her own world.
While sitting in her sky-high house of glamour, directly behind her in the distance was the façade of the company I used to work for, a few blocks from the Javitz center. I immediately had a flashback to those days working for a hotelier who was brash, brazen and did not suffer other people’s mistakes (or questioned his vision) lightly.
She was talking, talking, talking about her fabulous fashion mag, and as my gaze slowly drifted back from looking outside the window to the center of her eyes, I realized she wasn’t really looking at me at all – just jabbering on about this and that.
Anyway, the interview wrapped up, but not before she tested my writing skills on-the-fly so to speak. She asked me to write a quick memo to Jean-Paul Gaultier, thanking him for his flowers, and apologize for not being able to make his event that evening.
Sure, no problem. I sat at the computer outside her office, just opposite the other assistant – Ms. Assistant barely looked or gestured to me, a sign indeed that she was unhappy in her job. Would I be if I were hired?
So, I start typing, and wanting to impress Ms. Editor, I began the letter with “Dear Monsieur Gaultier,"
"What a pleasure it was to receive your fantastic flowers this afternoon..."
Then I wrapped it up quick, thanked Ms. Editor for her time, and left. But before I left, Ms. Editor asked me, “Why did you shift your eyes around during my interview with you?” I said I wasn’t aware that I had, and had usually been complemented on my doing this, as it was very expressive and endearing to people who spoke with me. They said it made them feel like they were being listened to intently, by expressing myself to them with my facial expressions.
And here I didn’t think she paid much attention to me during our initial conversation.
Later on, I called her corporate office and rescinded my application. They were shocked because they had put me on the short list of candidates to fill the 'highly exalted position'. When they asked me why, I told them, in very diplomatic terms, that I did not want to work with someone who critiqued me in such an unprofessional way. I’d already worked for one tyrant in my career, and I wasn’t about to subject myself to such humility again. I basically told them that she should find herself another pet monkey to throw bananas at.
2 comments:
I love this post, love the concept behind the blog and I really love your lists of interests in your profile.
Good luck with the Devil! Don't sign any contracts, OK?
I worked for this woman for two weeks before I decided to move to another company. I've since heard horror stories and glad I made the right decision to leave when i did.
Your story sound familiar, I think I remember your interview there. If you are who i think you are , then I could tell when I first saw you walk into the office you were high quality.
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