I got an interview with the marine research company, to assemble components for underwater monitoring devices (mentioned in this post). After hemming and hawing for a little while, I decided to at least take the interview, to learn more about it.
As much as I enjoy my job at the constuction site, and know that it’s good education for me and that it’s a small step in a well-worn path to a professional trades career, I don’t believe in the sort of unsustainable development we’re doing or the hiarchical structure of the management. So, the temptation of another position in an area that focuses on sustainability and seems to involve so much rad geekiness is really too much for me: I have no idea where such a path may lead, but would be kicking myself if I didn’t at least check it out.
The thing is, underwater robots are just so cool. Simple as that: If I were able to say that’s what I did for a living, instead of being an electrician, it’d be worth the uncertainty of taking a job that wouldn’t give me hours towards my apprenticeship or lead in a foreseeable direction.
I left work early on Wednesday, and went to the interview: In the industrial disctrict around the corner from my house, which was a delightfully short commute by bike. I was aleady fantasizing about rolling out of bed at 8 am instead of the 5:30 am I currently see on the alarm clock every morning.
And then I walked into the worst interview I’ve ever had in my entire life.
It’s not that the interviewer was especially horrible, because I’m sure he’s an okay person in one way or another. He is the manager of the manufacturing division and sounds to be very keen on it. Having said that, I’ve taken part in a fuck-load of job interviews in my lifetime, on both sides of the table, and this dude? He was incompetent.
In case you don’t know this, I am a talker. I love to talk, even and maybe especially with strangers: I want to know the why, how, and where of your life, and will readily discuss with you my own takes on life, culture, politics, whatever. Which is why I love blogs, incidentally (and also why I get into awkward situations with straight men who think I’m hitting on them… Another post!).
So when I say that the interviewer talked AT ME for 20 minutes non-stop, I mean that there was essentially no interview: He talked, I nodded and tried to comment, he kept talking, and it was over. There were no questions, just long rambling decriptions of the company, the work, and the contracts.
Well, except for one other thing: Among the multitude of words pouring from his mouth, the interviewer made a stupid crack about hoping I wasn’t “afraid of power tools”.
Which told me two things:
- HE HADN’T READ MY FUCKING RESUME
- HIS ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT MY GENDER WERE DEFINING HIS IDEAS ABOUT MY CAPABILITIES
And it’s a shame, really, for him: If I hadn’t found the actual position to be rather boring, and if he hadn’t been so tedious, I was so well-sold on my own idea of a life with underwater robots that I’d have been a damn incredible employee.
Mostly though, I’m just glad I discovered one more thing to enjoy about my construction job: More often than not, every assumes I know more than I actually do, and it’s up to me to lead the clarifications and assert my need for instruction. It’s tough sometimes, especially when I have to reveal my utter ignorance about industry lingo that veteran workers take for granted, but I still like what it represents: That I am capable, intelligent, and equal to everyone else.
I’m debating whether or not I ought to drop a brief note to the HR rep over at the marine research company, the one who arranged the interview and seemed quite nice on the phone: Should the company be told that their manufacturing manager has no idea how to interview a potential employee (or read their resumes), and makes inappropriate jokes? My mom and Oats both say yes, but I’m not sure I have the energy to care.
In other news, I’m hosting a lamb supper on Sunday afternoon for ~10 guests, and I have yet to secure any lamb. Dear guests, if you’re reading this, please don’t fret: I have a lead, and hope to have fresh meat in hand by midday tomorrow, thanks to the careful sleuthing of Sum and Capt. Pestou! Still, it’s a bit stressful, especially because I’m blatantly attempting to channel the roast lamb meals of my childhood, and really am not sure I’m up to par with my dad’s culinary skills. He gave me all the directions, however, and will be available by telephone if needed. Should be an adventure, at any rate.
During this afternoon’s failed lamb mission, I bought these, because I couldn’t get over the colours: