Tag: Office

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The King

He took a deep breath. Then against his better judgement, my brother walked into the Managing Director’s office wearing a professional-grade Elvis impersonator suit. What happened next was most unexpected.

For context, our family does own a high-end Elvis impersonator suit: rhinestones, bell-bottoms, wig, faux gator-skin shoes, cape, rings. The whole deal. Every family needs one.

I purchased the suit in San Francisco. I needed it for a play I was in while living overseas. On my last day in town I asked my friend, a San Francisco native, “Are there any shops around here where I might purchase an Elvis costume?” He looked at me with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Such a dumb question.

With a roll of his eyes he speed-dialed a costume shop. “Ramone”, he said. “I need an Elvis costume right away”. There was silence on our end as Ramone responded.

“No…”, said my friend as he looked at me and winked, “…probably more the sweaty, pudgy comeback years.” Ouch. Guilty as charged.

We headed to the shop and I purchased the costume. It saw good service in the play.

Years later, working in Washington, DC, I brought the costume out of retirement. It was Halloween. I changed into the suit in my office and walked around my floor at work handing out candy. It was that sort of workplace. Frankly, it has been that sort of career.

By contrast, my brother worked at a high-octane DC law firm just up the street. We met for lunch and I mentioned my morning Halloween Elvis escapade. He got a glint in his eye. He walked back with me to my office and borrowed the costume.

And so it came to be that my brother suited up as The King and delivered candy throughout his law firm to people billing $1,000 per hour for legal services. The other attorneys were stunned, bemused, horrified. One actually asked him, “Is this being done on billable time?” Then my brother went for it.

The King took the elevator up to the top floor where the Managing Director had his palatial corner office. My brother approached the receptionist. She looked at him and said “You are either on the fast track to being a partner, or he is going to fire your ass”. My brother said “Thankyaverymush” and then gave her some candy.

He knocked on the Managing Director’s door and entered, singing out “Trick or Treat!” in a deep Elvis voice. Time stood still. Then the partner leapt from his desk and exclaimed with glee, “NO WAY!” It turns out, and nobody knew this, he was a huge Elvis fan. He got several selfies taken with The King. Then my brother returned to obscurity within the bowels of the firm. But not before he became a legend.

 

[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]

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The Interviews – 16/10/2017

I was once offered employment by a naked man in a public shower. This is pretty typical of my career, which mostly consists of jobs for which I am unqualified and interviews that do not follow a script. Let me explain before you come to the wrong conclusion.

I knew a professor at college who was really into running. I am really into not running. Yet for some reason we found ourselves showering next to each other at the Athletic Center one morning. He asked if I wanted to be his Teaching Assistant while he lathered with shampoo. I said yes while I soaped my armpits. We maintained strict eye contact with one another throughout this exchange, because if there is one thing for which I am categorically unqualified, it is to be naked in a public shower.

In another instance, I was interviewed by someone who had just arrived that morning on an overnight flight from China. He kept falling asleep during our interview. When he would momentarily roused himself, I would continue answering his original question until he dozed off again. We only got through three questions in 45 minutes, which I credit with getting me a job for which I was woefully unqualified.

During another interview, I was asked how I felt about working for Jews. Seriously. I was so caught off guard by the question that it’s one of the few times in my life I have truly been at a loss for words. I must have stammered something affirming because the interviewer offered me the job. I learned later that he was a rabbi – who knew?

I was once asked by a friend to interview for a job I didn’t want but for which, for a change, I was actually qualified. During the proceedings she asked me to identify “the most creative tools” I use when communicating with others. With nothing to lose (except our friendship, perhaps), I decided to really go for it with my response. I slowly stood up, fixed the panel with a steely gaze, took off my suit jacket, and said without a touch of irony: “Interpretive. Dance.” Then I dialed up the uncomfortable with a few choice moves. Despite these heroic efforts I was offered the job.

Perhaps the most memorable interview was for my first “real” job. I was so unqualified for this one that I had to borrow my roommate’s suit, since I did not own one at the time. I can still recall the moment I entered that intimidating office foyer, ringed by racks of promotional material. I tried to exude managerial competence as I strode towards the interview panel assembled across the room. Instead, the trouser cuff from my roommate’s borrowed suit caught the corner of a pamphlet rack, spinning me off balance. I careened headfirst into the adjacent rack, pulling it and all the resources down upon me with a crash. I lay there, winded, as pamphlets scattered into the air like a thousand paper snowflakes. Agonizing Silence. Agonizing Shame. Eventually, mercifully, one of the interviewers exclaimed, “What an entrance! I mean, HE NAILED that landing!” Somehow, I got the job.

And so, after procrastinating by writing this story, I go now to interview for yet another job for which I am unqualified. I’ll let you know how it goes. If all else fails, I may simply revert to showering in public.

 

 

Photo credit goes to www.tes.com