The Vamp Hire Interviews
On more than one occasion throughout the years I've had to don a sales hat. I never consciously started out on that path but, you know how it is, life has a way of tossing you an off-the-table slider when you're looking for the over-the-middle fastball. In the end, all you can do is take your hacks and try to get a piece of it. And here's the thing you find out quickly when being interviewed for a sales job: the person with all the questions is a salesperson, someone who's, no doubt, sold what you'll be selling if, indeed, you pass muster. A bit daunting, for sure, as this evaluator has been familiar with the product or service for a long time and could sell it to you in their sleep (if they were, like... a narcoleptic?). So, yeah, I'd do my best duck on the pond--seemingly calm and serene on the surface, paddling mightily underneath--impression, vamping like crazy, leaning into the "fake it 'til you make it" aphorism and then hope for a phone call telling me I've got the gig.
One thing I didn't leave to improvisation in these grueling inquisitions was the prospect of being confronted with the classic salesmanship line. Not the "Where do you want to be in five years?" query which I did encounter twice, my two separate responses being "taking your place" and "on a lush island, sipping umbrella drinks, supremely smug over having successfully embezzled a fortune from my last workplace". Yeah, I didn't get those jobs. The lesson learned: while engaging in the interview process, flippancy is not your friend. No, the famous scenario I'm referring to is called the "Sell me this pen" prompt where the questioner pulls out a pen, hands it to the respondent, sits back and takes notice of what that person can do on the fly, receiving body language and behavior cues from the interviewer, to customize his or her pitch. It's attributed to Zig Ziglar (catchy, right?), a motivational speaker from back in the 60s and the scenario has been played out countless times in T.V. shows and movies, most recently in "The Wolf of Wall Street". Like I said, I was ready for the question but the task never presented itself.
Indeed, had I been asked, my plan of attack was to turn the situation on its ear. Instead of being put into the uncomfortable position of having to sing the praises of his or her pen, I was all prepared to dismiss the writing utensil: "This pen is crap", would've been my opening gambit, "It's dull, totally out of style, not particularly pleasing, grip-wise, seemingly lost when it comes to the statement it's trying to make..." That's when I'd whip out a piece of scrap paper (surreptitiously kept in my left hand the entire time) and scrawl my John Hancock, finishing the sentence "... and falling woefully short, both in consistent ink flow and aesthetic appeal on the page." And then, before they could respond, I'd produce a shiny alternate from my shirt pocket. "Now this is what you really want, a prototype I just got out of the lab." I'd quickly produce my signature again, continuing. "And as you can see, its texture is divine, nary a skip, quick-drying with no smudging, making it perfect for both a lefty or righty--"
I had more at the ready but you get the picture. I'd finish by coaxing and cajoling this interviewer into immediately stopping the process and introducing me to my new work associates, but not before substantially raising my salary on the spot. So yeah, this was my Walter Mitty--just a mild-mannered guy with a vivid fantasy life--moment. And now, with some seasoning and hindsight, I realize I never could have pulled it off. No doubt, that necessary scrap paper would've somehow ended up in my right hand and not my left, literally coming to grips with the interviewer during our opening handshake, its velcro-like attachment calling attention to my overly-sweaty palm. The pen they offered up would probably be really cool, totally distracting me from my pitch, culminating in me asking if I could borrow it sometime. And my so-called prototype stylus lodged in my top pocket would be outed by the interviewer as they informed me its leaking dramatically all over my dress shirt.
So, yeah, finally accepting that my earlier delusions of grandeur and failed attempts at commandeering the interview process via sophomoric jocularity weren't getting it done, I think back to my last interview and another classic prompt: "Why do you want this particular job?"... My response on this occasion was to take a beat and eschew any irreverent comebacks in favor of contemplative reasoning which, I must say, seemed to have garnered points with the overly earnest interviewer. As we finished up, he scanned my resume one last time, his forehead crinkling, "Huh, there was something else I was going to say--" "That I've got the job?", I blurted out with a smirk, finishing his sentence. "No, that wasn't it", he replied, so matter-of-factly my grin morphed into the fetal position. He then smiled politely, shook my hand and ushered me out of the room, saying he'd be in touch. "Once a smart-ass, always a smart-ass" I mused over my overt flippancy once again sabotaging my prospects. A couple of days later I received a call saying I got the job... Go figure.