How to Honk Your Way Out of a Job
When you go to Disneyland, your theme park experience does not start when you hop aboard your first ride. It starts as soon as you drive through those magical gates and set eyes upon the sign that welcomes you to “The Happiest Place on Earth.”
Similarly, when you have a meeting or job interview, it’s good to keep in mind that the process does not start when they come out to the lobby and call your name, but long before that. To explain why I say that, let me call this story, “Why It’s Never a Good Idea to Be an A-hole to Anyone: A Cautionary Tale in Two Acts.”
Act I
When I first moved out to Los Angeles at age twenty-four, to pursue my dream of working in the entertainment industry, I found myself struggling to even get an interview, let alone a job. But after months of working different part-time and temp jobs, I finally got called in to interview for a full-time, entry-level research job at a major film studio.
As I was in the midst of a week-long temp assignment at the time, my only option was to schedule the interview during lunchtime. Which meant that I had exactly one hour to drive to the studio, park my car, be interviewed, and race back to my job. If it sounds like Mission: Impossible—especially when you take into consideration the unpredictability of L.A. traffic—it was. But if all went according to plan, it was realistically doable since the studio was just about a fifteen-minute drive away under normal circumstances; plus, I had no other option.
So, I left my office and was relieved to find that the traffic was light that day, which enabled me to get to the studio right on schedule, with two minutes to spare. Only, as luck would have it, once I drove through the studio gates and into the parking lot, I got stuck behind an older, gray-haired gentlemen who was crawling along really, really, really slowly, looking for a parking space.
Getting more and more stressed by the second as he sat there motionless, despite the fact that there were no other cars in front of him, I waited patiently for about two minutes before the crazy, frustrated New York Driver in me kicked in: “Come on, man…let’s #$@&*#$ go!!!” I started screaming, while pressing down obnoxiously on my horn.
Luckily, my windows were closed, and so were his, so he couldn’t hear what I was saying. (Bear in mind, by the way, that—not that this excuses it—I was in my twenties at the time; I’m much more mature and mellow now.) Anyway, he finally pulled into a parking space, at which point I screeched past him, sped to the next aisle, careened into the first available space, and raced into the office building.
Completely stressed and frazzled at this point, I hurriedly checked in with the receptionist, who told me that the guy who was going to be interviewing me was running a few minutes late getting back from lunch, that I should have a seat, and that she’d call my name when he arrived.
As I sat there waiting, trying to compose myself for the interview, the elevator doors opened and—guess who steps out—yes, of course, it was the gray-haired gentleman from the parking lot. Picking up my résumé to cover my face, while slinking down in my chair, I’m thinking, “I hope he doesn’t see me.” At which point, the receptionist calls out to me, “Todd, Mr. Johnson”—not his real name—“is here and ready for you.”
You can imagine how incredibly relieved I was when he greeted me, walked me back to his office, and spent ten minutes interviewing me for the job without having recognized me. Whew! I had dodged a bullet.
Shaking his hand, I thanked him for his time, and he said they’d “be in touch.” I started heading for the door, free and clear…only to hear him say, “Oh, and by the way…when you drive, you really need to be a little more patient.”
Act II
Cut to: Last year. I was sitting in the reception area at a Wall Street firm, a potential new client, waiting to meet with their head of training to discuss a possible leadership program, when this guy walks in. Let’s just call him “Mr. Slick.” With product-greased hair, an Armani suit, and a yellow power tie, this guy is straight out of central casting.
“I’m here to see April, the head of HR,” he says to the receptionist, somewhat bluntly and arrogantly.
“And your name?” she asks.
“Rick,” he replies. “Where’s the men’s room?”
“And your last name, Rick?”
“She knows. Is the bathroom this way?” he says, walking away in search of it.
Returning about five minutes later, he approaches the receptionist again: “Is she ready for me?”
To which the receptionist responds, “Not yet. It should only be a few more minutes. You can have a seat over there.”
“That’s OK, I’ll stand—I don’t wanna wrinkle my suit. And I hope it’s soon, ’cause I’m kind of in a rush. You think you can grab me a water?”
The receptionist hands him a warm bottle of Poland Spring from a carton.
“I guess you guys don’t have a refrigerator?” he asks, sarcastically. “Whatever, whatever, it’s fine.”
Not believing what I’m witnessing up until this point, but kind of enjoying the show, a young woman comes rushing in:
“Sorry, I’m late, April,” she says to the woman who’s been handling the reception duties this entire time. “Thanks so much for sitting in for me while I grabbed some lunch.”
“Not a problem,” April replies, with a genuine smile and a head shake indicating disbelief, “it’s been interesting.”
And then, with a complete change of demeanor, and a voice tough as nails, she turns to Mr. Slick: “OK, Rick, I guess I’m ready for you. I’m April, the head of HR. Nice to ‘officially’ meet you. You can follow me right this way.”
I don’t know whatever happened with Slick Rick, but if I had to venture a guess, I would say that his odds of being hired were about the same as mine were after my honking incident twenty years earlier.
In Review
The Big Lesson: Be nice, kind, and respectful to everyone you meet. One, because you just never know who it is that you’re talking to. And two, because it’s simply the right thing to do.
The Big Question: Have you ever had an embarrassing work incident which perhaps you didn’t handle so well and it came back to bite you? What can you do going forward to make sure that nothing like this ever happens to you again?
Your Big Insight:
Your Big Action: