newyorkette

^{The interviewee, in the chair.}

Selling cartoons rarely pays the rent. Cartoonists sometimes have day jobs. Sometimes they also need night jobs. So today I began my night-job search. I started by responding to the call for telemarketers at the Roundabout Theatre, the 5pm to 9pm shift. How hard could that be? Couldn’t be harder than teaching software to coked-up, histrionic bookers at model agencies (or it’s equivalent, teaching monkeys to fly). I was good at that. What could be harder than that?

I manage to score an interview after leaving two messages on their voicemail, presumably giving them a sample of my pleasant phone manner and cheerful dauntlessness. My competition appears to be a couple of super sweet, theater versions of trainspotters, people who know everything about theater. They’re talking about that 1992 performance of this, the 1996 performance of that…

I had a racy blind date once with a huge Broadway producer who dumped me when he ascertained through adept conversational maneouvering that I prefer “vanilla sex” to S&M (didn’t S&M obsolesce with the eighties?), but I can’t even remember his name now, so I couldn’t try to impress them with my alternative knowledge of the theater.

Nonetheless, I remain nonplussed and self-assured in the knowledge that I’ve succeeded in every job I’ve ever undertaken, no matter how unlikely. That is, till the interviewer, Tony, pops The Question. The humiliating, flummox-making, most annoying job interviewer’s question ever that I had totally forgotten about.

“So, what makes you think you’d be good at this job, and why do you think I should hire you?”

The problem with The Question, is that I have The Answer that cannot be uttered. It’s not that it’s a rude answer. It’s just too logical, and logic is often misinterpreted as sarcasm. Like when the principal of my school went berserk after one such logical answer, snarling, “You have ALL THE ANSWERS, don’t you, young lady? ALL THE ANSWERS! DON’T YOU!!”

No matter how many times I denied it, no, no, no, I didn’t have all the answers, no, how could I have all the answers, he would not be soothed.

Oh, I learned my lesson. Now I smother the little voice in the back of my head that says, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? Who’s the employee recruiter here? Isn’t it your job to know if I’ll be good at this and why?”

If I have to answer that question, shouldn’t I also get to hire myself if I like my answer?

I’ve never been very good at the why’s. Always been better at the how’s.

Posted Friday, April 21st, 2006 at 6:00 am under NYC. Feel free to trackback from your own site. All images on newyorkette.com are the intellectual property of Carolita Johnson, and you must ask (and receive) express permission to use them or reproduce them in any way whatsoever.