SUBTEXTjob interview came after I had been married for ten years, had
three children, and owned a house in the suburbs. I had been a
free-lance writer all that time, but there was nothing reliable about
my income, and our third child precipitated the need for a steady
wage.
"The problem is," my wife said, looking critically at the only
suit I owned, which I always wore for weddings and funerals, "I
don't think that's the right thing to wear. What do you wear to a
job interview?"
What do I wear? What do I say? Can I tell them I've been
free-lancing for ten years? Won't wanting a job now mean I'm a
failure? Will they want to hire a failure? And what about a resume?
They had asked me to bring one, but what exactly was a resume?
All I had to show for the last ten years was a collection of books
and articles!
My wife calmed me down, decided I should borrow a gray suit
from my brother, and told me as I left, "Just remember. They
want to hire you. Maybe hundreds of people answered that ad,
but you're the one they chose to interview. You've got something
they want. Go in with that attitude in mind, and remember, if
you don't get the job it's still not the end of the world."
"You've got something they want!" That piece of advice stayed
with me throughout the interview, and it allowed me to send out
a subtext of relaxed control and confidence. I got the job over a
half dozen applicants, and a year later, the man who interviewed
me confided that my experience was less than anyone else who
applied. "But you could write. We had some of your books and
articles, and you seemed so comfortable and at ease during the
interview that you impressed me. I thought, this guy doesn't really
need the job, but he's very together. That's one reason we hired
you."