Interview with Mahogany Robots

Okay, so I finally got an interview with one of the top firms in the city.  Nice high rise building, nice pay, practice groups, nice bonuses, the works.   Unfortuntately it was an akward lunch interview, one where four partners grill you while you try to eat.  Lovely concept, no?

Anyway, I arrived at the firm, walked through its mahogany doors, and sat on its leather couches.  I notified the receptionist that I was there, and then to my surprise, saw partners scrambling around, bitching and moaning like little house fraus over who was going to do the interview. 

 Come on people, it’s a free lunch.  And, why would they schedule an interview designed to entice newbies to their mahagony world if they can’t pretend for even five minutes they have one iota of job satisfaction. 

Next came the awkard drive to the restaurant.  Of course I got stuck riding with a partner who has a reputation for being unable to bond with anyone-  including his wife and sons.  Our conversation was lovely.  With great suspicion, he asked me how I received such a glowing letter of recommendation from my former employer, a company I had clerked for.   I told him it was because of my hard work on an intellectual property case that almost went to trial.  He accused me of writing the letter myself.  I told him to call the number listed for the person who signed it.  Genius solution, Non-bonding partner!   Couldn’t you figure this one out on your own, after all don’t you claim to work on billion dollar deals?  Or, perhaps, you are just taking your anger out on me, you know, the anger that has built up from you inability to talk to your wife and sons.  Pathetic.

Now, I wish I could say that the lunch went better, but it didn’t.  It seems as though the head partner forgot that he had another meeting have way through the lunch, or so he claimed.  He just got up and left.  I should have done the same, because eating with these people was literally the most awkward thing I’ve ever gone through in life, more awkward than going through puberty.

The other two interviewing partners had no personality either.   Conveniently, they too, had to leave early so that they could get back to work.  These people must really love to be at their desks! 

I couldn’t help but think that none of these men were capable of being in the presence of a woman.  They seemed like the poor blokes in high school, who could never talk to girls or ask them out.  And now, it seemed as though they either:  a) had gone through a painful divorce invoking a pavlovic response to women or b) just hated their wives because they had to support them while they were chained to their mahagoney desks.   

Anyway, those bastards made be drive back with the same impersonal asshole who accused me of writing my own letter or recommendation.  Oh well, I take comfort knowing that they work in a high rise building.  It is only a matter of time before one, or all of them, jumps.