"No update on interview? Inexcusable!"
--B&G

Hey, you try to summarize a 12-hour job interview in blogular form, alright? It's not easy to do. Bastards.

I'll just say yesterday went very well...I was totally impressed by the paper, the people - the whole operation. You gotta respect a place that doesn't find a two-hour sit-down sufficient. No, they want you to spend the whole friggin day out there - talk to as many people and see as much of the city as possible - for your benefit and theirs. This is really a special paper; I haven't seen anything like it.

But good Lord - I was on the hot seat the entire goddamn day. My only down time was the hour set aside for me to go piss in a cup. Christ.

After sitting in on the morning news budget meeting, I was grilled by the Executive Editor in his office. This is how it went for more than an hour:

1. EE throws out some tough question designed to break my will and make me cry like a little girl. EE delivers said question with your standard intimidating poker face.
   
   
2. I absorb the force of said question, take deep breath, attempt not to vomit, and answer said question as best as possible.
   
   
3. EE stares through me for several seconds, uncomfortable silence, then jots down some unreadable shorthand code on a notepad.
   
   
4. EE maintains poker face; makes it very clear I am his bitch. I make it very clear I agree. "Yes, sir!"
   
   
5. Repeat steps 1-4 562 times.
   

I think I held up well though, watching my good friend Samuel Alito face the Judiciary Committee on CNN in the background, literally at the same time. At one point I almost blurted out that I would keep "an open mind" on abortion, but decided that imprudent.

At another point I found myself asserting that my J-school separates itself from all other programs in its approach to "teaching" journalism. Literally two minutes later, EE reveals he graduated from Columbia J-school.

...[gulp!]

"Ed! Ed! Ferris Bueller is on line three!"

Whoops. And that was just one-twelfth of the day. Two more editors took me to lunch immediately afterwards, declaring "you got the hard part out of the way early - let's go get lunch!" Phew! ...They then proceeded to ask "So let's say a source won't talk to you" and "What's the toughest thing you've faced in journalism?" over burritos and tostadas.

So that was the day - just a constant barrage of questions. By 7pm, I was waiting with the managing editor in his office to go to dinner. A reporter came in with a story question as I sat and read their Sunday edition. Out of left field, Managing Editor says "Hey Dickie, how would you handle this phone call?" Wha? Next thing I know I'm roll-playing a call, with Managing Editor pretending to be a testy, difficult source. Remember: This is hour ten. CTU detainees have had easier interrogations.

But that said, they're an amazingly dedicated, friendly, passionate bunch. They demand excellence, and I guess this was their friendly way of making that clear. Again, you gotta respect an organization that's willing to go to those lengths for a job candidate. So keep yer fingers crossed. Hopefully I impressed them.


***************************************************************************************


Oh yeah, and I'll never forget the drug test. They sent me to this lab a couple of miles over in downtown PS. I get there and it's just me and this heavily tattooed hispanic guy in the waiting room. Really extroverted and gregarious - 'just starts talking my ear off, how he's originally from South Central and just moved to town, how he's applying to be an undercover security guard at K-Mart, how he's got the 7pm to 3am shift at McDonald's but hates it.

Meanwhile, I look like a professional douchebag all decked out in a suit, but that doesn't stop him from leaning in and offering a hot insider tip: "Dude, they're hiring at Wal Mart - seriously, you should check it out."

It was just one of those moments, you know? Those flares of panic. If this doesn't work out...I could wind up doing price checks for the rest of my life.

He was really interesting to talk to though, and it turns out he's a convicted felon. From what he said, it sounded like he was living in a halfway house for parolees, trying to get back on his feet.

I thought that was nice. And fitting. The felon and the journalist. Waiting to be tested for drugs. Just another sunny afternoon due east of God's Country.

Both of us trying to get back on our feet...