SUBTEXT"I've done my homework," Pete assured me.
I assumed he had taken a refresher course in CADD, but no
as he explained it, "The job interview these days is a duel for
power. I've studied up on it. I've read Power Through Clothes
Looking Out for Yourself, Go for Success. I've read all the books
and I'll knock them dead tomorrow!"
I ran into Pete a week later, and I asked, "Did you get the
job?"
Pete sighed deeply. "I don't know. I went to so much trouble—
I wore a perfectly tailored suit, single breasted with a vest, charcoal
gray, and a white shirt. White's always good, the books say. I
wanted to appear conservative, send a message of dignity, strength."
"I get it. You dressed for success."
"Exactly. Even wore a maroon tie."
"Looking like that," I said carefully, "how could you miss?"
He looked at me bleakly. "I walked into the boss's office for
the interview, and what do you think he was wearing?"
I nodded. "Of course. The same outfit? Or was he dressed for
more power?"
"No way! He was wearing running shoes and jeans and a T-
shirt! And he was swinging a golf club. Kept fiddling with it all
during the interview."
I shook my head. "Really?"
"I took the position of power when we sat down," Pete said
wistfully.
"What's that?"
"A firm seat, erect and quiet. Fidgeting betrays an inner weak-
ness, so I sat stiff, my eyes fixed on his. Firm eye contact, you
know. It's always supposed to work."
"Did it?"