Not Even Not Zen 436: Biomythography - Note 144, Getting the Job, Pt. 1

Getting the Job, Part I 

At the first interview, I felt good. I was satisfied and relaxed. The feeling came from having finished a long bout of successful work, during which I reset my institute's firewall rules correctly, rescued everyone's network service, and restored the data connections for my three hundred people and for a few hundred others.

Now, I also felt underdressed and a little awed by the large, glass-walled meeting room. But I knew I was a good candidate for the job by its description. I solved these kinds of technical problems. I laughed at the government paperwork. I solved personality conflicts, too. And I fixed team problems - no problem.

The people inside ushered me in kindly. I paused, looking at them closely. I recognized the CIOs, two men and a woman dressed in office clothes with no ties. This seemed to be a surprising force of them for an untitled position. I didn't recognize the three women in suits. We took places around a long, pinewood table. It held room enough for twenty-four but even so, the seven of us sat close around the bottom half of the business table. A fourth institute CIO joined us over a phone conference line. I was heartened to hear he was someone I knew. 

For a while, the questions stayed formal. I learned, to my surprise, I had applied to an unlabeled CIO position. One woman acted like I wasn't ready, at least at first, and she delivered her questions in a hostile, challenging way. But this was all stuff I knew. After a while, I made everyone smile and relax. The group settled into a discussion with follow-up questions that felt natural, not quite so scripted. The CIOs seemed to like my answers. I wasn't sure about the interviewers in suits. 

After half an hour of addressing my work history and fielding a few questions about databases and federal data calls, one of the women in suits looked down at her list. She asked what sounded like a prepared question.

"What is special about you?" she said.

"Nothing," I blurted, to me the obvious answer. I could tell by her scowl I had said something wrong. Instantly, I tried to add on to it. "I mean, I get a lot of things done. I'm good with teams of people. I accomplish challenging technical projects. But there are a lot of good workers around the NIH and there are more like me."

"Well, then why should we hire you?" The scowl had never left her face. 

I had to fall back on my accomplishments. I described a few she hadn't heard yet. From the looks of the other CIOs, they hadn't known I was responsible for those particular achievements and it reassured them to hear it. After a while, everyone seemed calm. The CIOs cracked jokes. 

I drove home thinking I'd had a good interview, except for saying I was nothing special. But in my head, I told myself, that's the correct answer.

Two days later, the end of the week sprang up on me like a friendly dog, happy to rub up against me and promise we were going to roll around in the grass and relax. It was a sunny Friday afternoon. I was driving, window down, left elbow out the side, already calm. I got a call. When I saw who it was, a CIO at the NIH who I really liked, so I picked up.

"Eric, do you own a suit?" Those were his first words. 

"Uh." For this, I had to think. I had gained ten pounds. Did I still fit into my old suits? 

"There are three finalists for the CIO job. Or there were. Now there are two." His voice dropped in hushed, urgent tones. "This job was set aside for a woman. Yesterday, that woman argued with the interview team. You can't argue with them. Do you understand?"

"Uh, yeah." This was a team I had made angry by saying I was nothing special. For sure, they had definite ideas about their computer hiring. Anyway, who argues with an interviewer during a job interview? I wouldn't have done it except - and this is a computer thing, I suppose - over a factual matter about computers.

"Right there in the conference room, she argued with them. And that's crazy." On the other end, he took a deep breath. "Why did you say there's nothing special about you? They hated that."

"Sorry." Because there was nothing special about me, was the reason. "The question took me by surprise."

"Anyway, now there are only two finalists. All the CIOs on the panel voted for you. We like you. We even liked your answer about being nothing special. That's why you're in. But you're not going to make it if you don't get yourself a suit. Look good the next time, Eric. Look like you want to be an executive."

"Okay, okay."

"Good. I know you can do it."

As soon as we hung up, though, I wondered if I could. I got home and shared the problem to my wife. She responded loyally with, "Of course you can." She made plans for me to go to a men's clothing store - not a department store, nor a thrift store, nor an outlet or any of the other places we usually shop, but a store devoted to new clothing for adult men. They sold suits.

On a Saturday, we pulled into the parking lot. My wife and I talked to a clothing salesman, whose face lit up in a slightly disturbing way. He stepped back a moment to appraise me from different angles. I told him I wanted charcoal grey. It looked good on me. He said that was fine. Then he added, "Are you going to get the job? Will you need to wear suits sometimes?"

"I've got a good shot." It was a weird thing to say but I knew it was true. "And I would need to wear suits a few times a year during public appearances."

"Two suits, minimum." he decided. "Make one of them a conservative, dark blue."

“Two?" To me, the cost of my next interview just doubled. 

"You don't want everyone to see you always in the same suit," he assured me. I realized he was right. People would remember. Even if we had months between public appearances, they would remember. Photographs and videos from the public meetings would ensure that even non-attendees would notice me in the same suit every time. 

For a few minutes, I tried on suits and worked out the prices in my head. Our family was still losing money every month, not saving it. My wife knew what I was thinking.

"Isn't the job worth two suits?" she asked. 

I leaned closer to her. "There's no guarantee I'll get it."

"I'm not looking for a guarantee."