My name is Bond. James Bond.
Ok, the only way that I would be confused with James Bond is if he was a 34-year old American with a sketchy beard and a waistline that was quickly approaching his IQ. So, I’m no Bond, but I have felt a bit like a secret agent lately because I have been interviewing for a new job.
I can write about the whole thing now because my current employer knows all about it and I have already given my notice and everything. I had been hoping that, when I gave them my notice, my boss would tell me to leave so that I could get a 2-week paid vacation. No dice. Good stuff like that never seems to happen to me, but I digress.
A longstanding theory of mine is that interviewing for a new job is just like being a secret agent. Both involve the transfer of documents, covert meetings, disguises (for me, a suit), and cover stories; and only sometimes involve lusty female villains, Aston Martins, and shaken martinis.
This secret agent’s first interview with my to-be employer was anything but Bond smooth.
The interview was on the other side of Cambridge from where I work now, so I left an hour and a half early, just in case there was traffic or if I got lost. I had printed out directions from a certain map-related website and felt confident.
I shouldn’t have. I got lost. I needed to take a right turn off of Memorial Drive, but I missed the correct turn and ended up on a bridge into downtown Boston. After I finagled a change of direction (no easy feat) and got back into Cambridge, I was back on Memorial Drive going in the wrong direction. 56 minutes until my interview.
I tried to turn around again, but the exit I took didn’t allow a left turn, so I had to weave through some side streets to get to the correct direction. I then missed the correct turn AGAIN. At this point, I began to perspire slightly, but I still had plenty of time. Then I took 2 more wrong turns. 35 minutes until my interview.
Eventually, I was able to get on the right track and took the correct exit (important note: I never stopped and asked for directions…I am a man, after all). I found the street that matched the address of my company, and turned onto the street. Things were looking good – until I realized that the street I had turned onto was actually the back of the building I was looking for. So I had to go to the end of the street and turn back onto the main street and park in the Cambridgeside Galleria. 20 minutes until my interview.
Who would have thought that it would be so difficult to find the Cambridgeside Galleria? I suppose it wouldn’t have been difficult for someone of normal intelligence.
Difficult or not, I finally parked the car in the underground lot. I put on my tie and suit coat, grabbed my manila folder with copies of my resume, and consciously decided to leave my cell phone and the map in the car. I didn’t want to forget to shut off the cell phone and have it ring during my interview, and after all, the company was right across the street, between the Galleria and the water, what could go wrong? 20 minutes until my interview.
Well, apparently, there is a canal on the other side of the Galleria (where I accidentally came out, through one of the stores). So, I was looking at the water and thinking that I was on the correct side of the Galleria when in fact I was on the complete wrong side. I walked up and down the street looking for a familiar street name, but no dice. I would have checked my handy map, but I had left that in the car, along with my cell phone. 5 minutes to my interview.
With so little time, I realized that I had to go back to my car and get my cell phone and call the company. I rushed back to the garage and found my car (no small accomplishment in that garage). I grabbed the map and my cell phone and noticed that I had no bars of service…being surrounded by concrete, this was no real surprise. 5 minutes late for my interview.
I got into the Galleria and called the HR guy. He wasn’t at his desk, so I left him an apologetic voicemail and promised to be there soon. Meanwhile, I had begun to perspire quite heavily as the following mantra repeated in my head: “People who are late for interviews don’t get hired. People who are late for interviews and have no sense of direction don’t get hired, either.” 7 minutes late for my interview.
Using the map and triangulating the height of the sun compared to the horizon, I finally figured out where I was, and got to the company 15 minutes late and covered in sweat.
I fully expected them to kick me out right away, but no one noticed. The interview went really well and I got the job. The name is Bond…James Bond; and yes, I did get lost on the way home, too.
