A Job Interview Experience

There were three stages in the interview process for this company: phone, video conference, then face-to-face.  I finished the phone interview and that went quite well.  They invited me to do the video conference interview.  This one, however, was a totally different story.

My first video conference interview with that company was canceled because of the flooding in New York City.  This was in August.  That day it rained too much, more than what the city could handle.  The interview was scheduled at 11 AM.  My friend Rex and I left the house at 8 AM so we could have 3 hours to navigate through the traffic and find the interview site.  Those three precious hours were spent stuck in Manhattan instead, crawling a few inches here and there, yelling at fellow irate drivers left and right, pleading with one cop and another to allow us to use the FDR Drive.  In short, I did not make it to the video conference interview.

We rescheduled it to Tuesday after Labor Day (Sept. 7) instead.  That was the closest date we could manage, as there were holidays in the U.S. and the U.K. between that time and Sept. 7, and it was extremely difficult for the company to coordinate the interview with their NJ site.  So Sept. 7 it was, giving me enough time to plan.  And I did.  It was a perfect plan, involving a rental car, Poughkeepsie, maps, meditation techniques, pentel pens, scotch tape, and drinking water.  Some of you know how I plan, how much time and effort I put into it, how I take into account anything and everything that may disrupt the smooth flow.  So when my recruiter told me the news that the Sept. 7 date would not push through because of logistics problems on the company's end, I fell off my chair.  I was ready to drop the company at that moment.

The recruiter begged me to reschedule, since I'd spent time and effort on this one already.  So I told him yes, but it better be soon.  He got me a Sept. 17 date, which at first sounded too far off into the future.  But later on I agreed to this. 

So early this week I started preparing for this.  No more rental cars and driving in Manhattan.  No more logistics problems.  And no more floods, damn it!  I searched high and low for ways to get to the site by public transportation.  It took me a few hours to find out that there was a bus line that leaves the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan that goes to the area.  The site was an easy (and cheap) cab drive from the bus stop.  Relieved, I focused my attention on the task ahead of me.  Outside the house, the trees were swaying slowly to the breeze.  All the trees in Queens, I imagined, were dancing that way, as Hurricane Floyd was already starting to make his presence known. 

Monday, families in some Florida and Georgia locations were forcefully evacuated from their homes.  Tuesday, the hurricane moved northward swiftly and battered the Carolinas.  Wednesday it gazed its evil eye on the Washington D.C. area.  Thursday it dumped rain on New York and New Jersey like nobody's business.  My flight to Boston that day got cancelled because of too much rain.  The state of New York declared an emergency and sent everybody home after lunch.  All the schools and offices closed early that day, in anticipation of another major flooding of NYC.  I couldn't believe it at first.  I prayed, asked, begged God to make this interview happen!  The storm couldn't be headed to New York!  It just couldn't!

The news confirmed it.  They said the storm would be upon New York that night, and of all the burroughs of NYC, Queens would be hit hardest.  There was light at the end of this dark, wet, and windy tunnel, though.  By morning, they said, the storm would've blown past us.  Friday would be a normal working day.  Business would be open as usual.  Classes would resume.  Hopes would be raised.  That night I prayed that the storm would leave us soon.  I slept earlier than usual, to the sound of howling winds, and rain banging violently against the roof.

I woke up to an unexpectedly dry Friday morning.  It was windy, but it wasn't raining.  Could God have heard me?  I quickly dressed up, put on my best (and only) suit, borrowed Rex's trenchcoat, and got out the door.  I marched confidently to the subway stop, and boarded the train to Port Authority Bus Terminal, where I would catch the bus to Woodcliff Lake.  I got to Port Authority 30 minutes early!  Ha, this interview will happen, I told myself, and soon I will be on my way to London!

The bus arrived 20 minutes late, but what's 20 minutes when I came in 30 minutes early, I thought?  I'll still be there on time.  Down below, a police car blazed by the crooked 42nd Street, its siren breaking the silence in the waiting area I was in.  I boarded the bus and began my journey.

I intentionally stayed in front, nearest the bus driver, and told him this was my first time to take this bus.  I requested that he tell me where I should get off.  The driver said yes.  Confidently, I relaxed on my seat and thought of all the questions I would ask during the interview.  But on our way to New Jersey, I got distracted.  I saw with my own eyes how bad the hurricane damage was.  Huge trees were uprooted here and there, electric posts were toppled, some houses were damaged.  I tried to not let these images spoil my mood, and concentrated on the interview that would happen in little under two hours.  I focused on how I'd act, how I'd put on a show, how I'd deliver my lines, how I'd pass it with flying colors and fly to London for free.

Because of the damage in NJ, the bus didn't go the normal way.  Traffic got rerouted in certain areas.  Not wishing to irk the driver by asking "Are we there yet?" every five minutes, I just smiled at him every now and then.  He'd return my smile every time, and get back to driving.   So we drove on.  When I saw that the time was getting dangerously close to my interview, however, I just swallowed my shame and asked the driver where I should get off.  He gave me this nonplussed look, then he slapped his forehead, sighed, and said we were two towns past it.  "You're kidding me," I stared at him.  "Am very sorry sir," the driver said as he shook his head.

I was screaming inside me.  I got off the bus right there, which was a bad idea because I didn't know where "there" was.  I was totally lost.  All I saw was an ATM, an "Annie Sez:" store, and a payphone.  I went to the Annie Sez store first, to ask where I was, and the phone numbers of the nearest cab companies.  The lady manager told me what to say to the cab company, plus the number of the nearest one (which was in NY, not in NJ -- we were at the border).  I hurried out to the payphone, lifted the handset, and listened for a dial tone.  None.  I hung up and listened again.  Still no dial tone.  The phone was dead!  I ran  back to the store and asked if I could use their phone.  The nice woman agreed, but she couldn't connect to the cab company because it was a different area code.  I told her my situation, that I was coming in for an interview, and that I only had like 5 minutes left to get there.  We frantically searched for the number of the nearest cab company in the 201 area code.  Only two were near enough.  I called one.  It was busy.  I called the other.  It was also busy.  But there was something weird about the busy signals in both.  "Line Congestion," said the manager.  "Their lines are probably dead, like in most places in NJ right now."  My heart felt like it could outrun Hurricane Floyd.  Okay, okay, I tried to calm myself down.  I'll just call the people in the U.K. and tell them I won't get to the site on time.  I dialed my phonecard's 1-800 number to call long distance.  Busy signal!!!

The manager noticed a police car just outside the store.  "Go to him," she said, "maybe he can dial for you."  I said a brief but heartfelt thanks to her and her staff, and sped out the door. 

I went to the cop and pleaded for his help.  He looked at me in a way which made me squirm and think of all the bad deeds I'd done.  Satisfied, he radioed somebody, mumbled some policeman mumbojumbo, and told me to wait.  While we were waiting he asked me if I tried the payphones.  "That one's dead," I pointed the payphone beside the store, "and I don't see any other payphone in the area."  "There's one right by the border," he declared.  "Hop in and I'll take you there."  So I did.  I took the shotgun seat of course, lest I be mistaken for a criminal.

True enough, it was very close.  We got there under a minute.  He pulled over and while I was fumbling to release the seatbelt lock, I found out I wasn't wearing it in the first place.  The officer either didn't notice it, or didn't care because it was too short a drive.  I got out, ran to the payphone, lifted the handset, and heard the sweetest sound of all -- a dial tone!  I flashed a diver OK signal to the cop, and I quickly dialed the cab company's number.  It didn't work.  I dialed again.  And again.  On my seventh try it connected, and I got an answering machine message that said they were closed due to the weather.  I shook my head in disbelief.  This couldn't be happening!!!

Resigned to the fact that I would never get to the interview site, I called the interviewers in the U.K. instead.  The 1-800 numbers were working, thank God, so I was able to use my calling card.  I talked to the guy who said he'd been trying to contact the New Jersey office himself.  He said all lines, even the video conferencing one, were down.  The interview would have to be rescheduled and the earliest was Wednesday.  Sighing, I told him Wednesday was too late for me, as other companies were awaiting my decision.  One last time, I asked him if the interview could be done over the phone instead, like the usual phone interviews.  He said no, the minimum they oculd do was a video conference.  I thanked him for his time, hung up, and looked down on the ground.  American soil never looked so dull.

With a long face, I went back to the cop, and asked him where I could get the bus home.  He offered to drive me there again, and I graciously accepted.  I thanked him, got out, waved, and sat with five other people at the stop.  A bus came along shortly.  In about an hour I was back home in NYC.

Perhaps it was not meant to be.  The events that occurred which prevented me from being interviewed were all beyond my control.  I was like Oedipus trying to avoid his fate, but ended up fulfilling every word of the prophecy.  Perhaps God wanted to teach me a lesson in humility by destroying my Tower of Babel.  Or in line with Hindu Karmic principle, perhaps I had done something awfully bad in the past, and it was payback time.

Thanks anyway for all of you who were there for me in spirit.  Without your support, I would've been in a more horrible state.