The smartest person in the room, McKenzie King, tugged at her pencil skirt and unconsciously puffed a breath from the side of her mouth into her bangs to force them from her eyes. She stood at the head of the table, the seat reserved for her. At 58, she didn’t think she would ever subject herself to another high-level job interview, but there she was. Her crisp white blouse, in contrast to her midnight jacket, sensible pumps, and purple pashmina, gave her a polished look. She had prepared for this interview for weeks and was determined to get the position. Perspiration dripped down her back. Her veins pulsed. She took a deep breath, swallowed heavily, and resolved herself to the process. She was poised for action, pen, and portfolio tucked against her belly, standing ready.
Damn nerves.
On the surface, McKenzie had it together: a great job, a beautiful home, and some money in the bank. However, her life was nowhere near perfect or easy. It never had been. Prodded by her parents to succeed, she was never good enough in their eyes and, by proxy, her own. This was her life’s wound, and she resented it. Yet, in true first-born fashion, always the obedient one, she worked hard and earned every title, every penny, and every gray hair, hiding under the expensive salon color job she now had. As a first-generation college student, McKenzie struggled with blaming her parents for their “encouragement.” They simply had no idea the sacrifices needed to get to where she was. She was a space alien to them. Regrets? Yes, she had them, especially since it cost her marriage, but she couldn’t help herself. Climbing the corporate ladder was like a drug. Each time she was successful was a satisfying yet fleeting hit, which gave her parents an equal high as they could brag about her successes. The bragging to their friends was always followed by a “What’s next, McKenzie?” She was a victim of her own success.
By that point, McKenzie could handle anything, personally and professionally, and had proved it. She was great at what she did, one of the best in the business, and a leader in her field. She started searching for a new job and landed this interview at Dunlap Kelly after learning that her colleague at Turner, whom McKenzie disagreed with on most things, got the promotion she had applied for and would now be her boss. A familiar churning in her stomach and chest overwhelmed her when she got the bad news about the job. Failure was not an option for her, and she would not work for that ‘unqualified fake.’ She considered the things he had that she didn’t – pedigree, a great golf game, the ability to shmooze the right people, and - a penis.
It’s hard to compete with that.
McKenzie knew these interviews involved skill, poise, and a little bit of theater. She was determined to be Meryl Streep for this one.
Lord, how I hate these suits. So damn tight. Undoubtedly invented by men!
The large conference room was bright and modern. The morning sun shone through the expansive window directly into her eyes.
Should I say something about this? Is this a test of assertiveness? Sheesh.
There was noticeably no coffee on the expansive counter, only a few dewy plastic water bottles neatly arranged, hand sanitizer in a pump, and a canister of some disinfectant wipes. With its 20 chairs neatly arranged around it, the conference table gave the impression that important decisions were made there.
So, it began. The most powerful person in the firm sauntered in with a very pregnant, smartly dressed woman in a snug-fitting navy tunic and white sweater. She had a sweet, friendly face. He furrowed his brow slightly and cocked his head to one side as he entered, surveying the room. His height increased the intimidation factor three-fold.
Jeeze, he must be 6”4.
McKenzie’s 5’2” shook their hands with a sweaty palm, resisting the temptation to wipe her hand on her skirt afterward. The typical niceties were exchanged, and the woman introduced herself before they took their seats. Powerful made no introduction. Sweetness sat in the chair that blocked the sun from blazing into McKenzie’s face.
Thank goodness. Did she do that on purpose?
Powerful sat at the opposite head of the table and looked quite comfortable there. His expensive cologne wafted pleasantly across the room as he settled into his chair. McKenzie’s tongue clung to the roof of her mouth.
Why am I torturing myself with this? Is it really worth it? Too late! You are here.
Powerful began, “McKenzie, I’ve heard a lot about you. So…, tell me why you want this job. It’s a lateral move for you, correct? Your CV is impressive. Why would you want a lateral move at this point in your career?”
She had anticipated the lateral move question but not right off the bat.
Really? ‘At this point in my career??’ What the hell? He thinks I’m old. At least he likes my CV. Breathe. You have nothing to lose here except maybe your sanity! Remember - they need you more than you need them. This move is your choice. What kind of an ass would ask a question like that? Speaking of asses, this skirt is practically up in mine.
She glanced at the paper interview schedule to cement his name in her brain. “Well, she coughed, I don’t consider this a lateral move. I am inspired by this company’s mission, vision, and reputation…”
Do you want to know the truth? I was passed over for a promotion at Turner, which should have been mine. Just because you know people and are a good bullshitter with male genitalia does not give you the right to steal jobs from more qualified people!! Dunlap Kelly is closer to home for me, sure, but I wouldn’t be here if that hadn’t happened! “…
I feel my qualifications and experience make me a great fit for this job, and I believe this position would ultimately advance my career.”
Where’s the coffee?
The sweetest person in the room, as sugary as a coconut cream pie, smiled. She nodded her head in understanding but remained quiet. Powerful continued.
“So, if you get this position, it will involve travel, long hours, after-work obligations, and lots of networking with potential clients. Do you think you’re up for the task?”
“Absolutely! In my current position, I manage all the…”
Are you f***in kidding me? I’m liv’n the ‘dream’ of having it all! I’ve worked since I was 14. Started as an under-aged fry cook in a pancake house for $5 an hour. Worked my way through high school, college, and grad school. Never missed a basketball game, play, or concert as my kids grew up. Cooked a real meal most nights. Juggled birthdays, holidays, and homework. Worked full time the whole time. My husband didn’t like it, but my parents sure did. Seem impossible? Well, not for me! This job now? Piece of cake!
“... my kids are grown now. It’s my time. I am fully committed to my career and am willing to do whatever it takes to promote Dunlap Kelly’s success.”
“Excellent, thank you.”
Sweetness posed the next question.
“So, tell me what you enjoy most about your current position and what could be better.”
“Happily! People. I love the people I work with and the clients I serve...”
What do I love? I do love the people I work with, most of them anyway, and my clients. I really don’t want to leave. I’m just tired of always being the mule and not being recognized for my leadership. Plus, I know I could do better. I deserved that promotion! I REFUSE to work under that…that…jerk!
“Hmm… what could be better? I would have to say the commute! It’s gotten old over the last couple years. COVID’s caused all of us to rethink our priorities, hasn’t it? I could use a new challenge, too. Dunlap Kelly’s offices are much closer to home for me in addition to all its other attributes. Sometimes, you have to move out to move up, right?”
Sweetness responded, “I know what you mean! My husband works near your current office. The traffic is awful! No one needs that extra stress these days. Yes, sometimes you do need to move out to move up. I get it.”
I like her! I could work with her!
Powerful sat leaning to one side in his chair propped upon his corresponding elbow, fist to face. The evidence of his cologne faded as nose blindness set in. The sun reflected sharply off his perfect hair. His laid-back body language was hard to read. If she got this job, he would be her boss. He asked the next question.
“In this position, you’d be supervising a group of very talented marketing specialists that are also a little…let’s say, independent-minded. How would you go about motivating them to work as a team?”
Oh, great. It sounds like this department is a mess! I love the challenge of motivating a team… I can always try what I did at Turner—resort to bribery with copious amounts of coffee and donuts because nothing brings people together like the promise of caffeine and sugar. OK. Get serious.
“Well, I lead by example. I always have. My work ethic and accountability, partnered with a gentle, persuasive personality, have worked for me. I would not ask my team to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”
Food doesn’t hurt!
After a few more questions from Powerful and Sweetness, there was a knock at the door, and the nicest person at Dunlap Kelly came into the room, tapped at her watch, and said, “Time for a break! McKenzie, would you like some water or coffee?”
“Yes, coffee, please! Black is great. Thank you so much!”
Thank the gods!
Sweetness and Powerful wished her the best and excused themselves from the interview.
Whew.
The coffee was mediocre and wonderful at the same time—warm, rich, and caffeinated! Just what she needed. The restroom was around the corner. She took a quick bio break and studied herself in the mirror. Interviews at this level exhausted her. This was the fifth or so in her 35-year career from all the times she had attempted to move up. Some were successful, some not.
Last one. I promise.
With her skirt suddenly cooperating, she adjusted her blazer and scarf and refreshed her lipstick.
Red but not too red—that is the key. Teeth, check. Hair, check.
She dabbed some pressed powder on her nose, stopping mid-tap.
You are getting old, McKenzie.
She knew she’d earned all those fine lines but hated them anyway.
Do you really want to go through with this? You’re not only old, but you’re also a fake. You. Are. A. Fake! NO! Pull it together. McKenzie! You ARE good enough. Suck it up and go, girl! YOU GOT THIS!
She was far from a fake. She headed back into the conference room for the next round and grabbed a bottle of water from the counter on the way in. The most influential person in the company, the COO, was up next and waiting for her as she entered.
Scene two. Let’s go!
“Welcome, McKenzie! Have a seat,” he roared a little too enthusiastically as he gestured to the conference table, eyes smiling beneath his KN95. His well-fitting gray suit, distinguished voice, and full head of salt-and-pepper hair gave off a swanky George Clooney vibe, minus the mask. “I am still COVID-averse, so don’t mind the mask and the lack of a handshake.”
“No worries”, she said. If you’d like, I can wear a mask too.”
“No, it’s all good unless YOU want to wear a mask. I like to read candidates’ faces when they interview. See more than just their eyes, if you know what I mean.”
Creepy! Did he just say that? Honestly, I would like to see more than just his eyes, too! This is getting weirdly interesting.
“Can you tell me where you want to be in five years?” he queried as he glanced at his phone and began scrolling.
So much for seeing my face!
She fidgeted just a little in her seat.
“Sure!” she said, trying to be as upbeat as possible.
Grinning a little too broadly, she swept her nearly extended arms across the conference table.
“I see myself here,” she proclaimed. I’ve reached a point in my career where I am very comfortable with…”
I can’t even think about five years from now. I’m day to day. You know the sandwich generation? Well, I’m an all-on hot pastrami on rye! With a stressful job, elderly parents, and a grandchild due any day, it’s a lot, but of course, I manage—I always do. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
“…All in all, I see myself finishing my career here and going out on top in an amazing organization. And honestly, I haven’t thought much about retirement yet. I’m still enjoying what I do too much. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! Um… well, you know what I mean. Um…I love marketing!”
Shit.
If a person could embody engagement, indifference, and preoccupation all at once, that was Influential.
Thank God, maybe he missed that last comment!
He missed that comment.
“Next question,” he sighs. What is your leadership style and your strongest professional attribute?”
Ok, these are two questions. I already answered half of this in the other session.
She smiled, “As I mentioned to the other group, I am a leader by example, and I would never ask my staff to...”
Do anything I wouldn’t be willing to do myself? True. Unfortunately, it’s a no-win situation. No matter what, I am always a grunt for someone. Then, I tend to be too nice, and my staff sometimes take advantage of me. Plus, I’m a workaholic, which is not always appreciated because it makes staff look bad and feel guilty, but I would rather pick up the slack than deal with the fallout of a job not getting done. Oh well, if servant leadership is something to aspire to, I think I nailed it. It works most of the time. Please let this be over soon!
“…I pride myself on being a servant leader; my strongest professional attribute is resilience. I have proven that time and time again by…”
No kidding. I have been knocked down and resurrected more times than Rocky Balboa. I am more resilient than a rubber band on a yoyo. What does that even mean? These damn nylons are basting me in my own juices. Are we done yet?
“Last question from me,” he says with a tone McKenzie cannot discern. “If offered the position, when could you start?”
“I have one project I need to complete, which should only take about three weeks or so. If I can get a colleague to take it on for me, maybe sooner.”
Yesterday!
Another tap at the door, and Ms. Nice was back in the room.
“It looks like our time is up,” she beamed, and McKenzie smiled back.
McKenzie hadn’t noticed before, but Ms. Nice probably had the whitest teeth she had ever seen, which beautifully complimented her green eyes and dark brown hair. With his impeccable gray suit, white shirt, and lipstick red tie (her color), George Clooney grinned as he lifted out of his chair. He didn’t linger. He thanked her for her time, saying, “We’ll be in touch within the week,” and exited the room. Ms. Nice nodded in agreement.
“Do you have any questions, McKenzie?” asked Ms. Nice.
“Yes, thank you. Just one. How do you like working here?”
“Great question,” she replied. “Well, you know, like any job, there are good days and not-so-good days. At Dunlap-Kelly, my experience has been that the good days outnumber the not-so-good ones, and that means a lot to me. Besides, the people are nice, and the location is amazing.”
“Well, thank you for your honesty and your hospitality. Both are much appreciated.”
“You are very welcome, McKenzie. If there isn’t anything else I can help with today, the interview is over, so you are welcome to go. The way you came in is down that hallway, then make a left. You can’t miss it. I wish you the best.”
I could use a drink, and I don’t mean more coffee, but I’ll get that myself!
McKenzie smiled, “I’m fine. Thanks again.”
Curtain closed!
Her footsteps echoed as she strode to the main entrance. The marble floor and cathedral ceiling gleamed. The expansive windows with their lakefront view enticed her as she gazed upwards and reflected on her experience. Nose blindness cured, McKenzie detected the familiar scent of designer cologne wafting in the hall. The smartest person in the building thought…
I could get used to this.
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