Job Interview

René Jacobs
Waiting for a callback from a job application is nerve wracking the first few times. Anyone in the throes of a major hunt knows that more often than not the response will be silence and not an outright rejection. Yet even a phone call serves as a glimmer of hope in the current economy. A phone call is better than nothing.

Verna Gardner responded to a job posting that was akin to finding a stash of gold coins buried in the backyard. Whoever had posted the job was looking for a doctorate in theoretical physics but would still take applications from someone who only had a four-year degree. Not only would they take applications but three days after she submitted her r sum  the phone rang.

A man with a difficult-to-place accent introduced himself as René Jacobs and said he was calling to set up an interview if she was still looking. Yes she was still looking. How does Monday afternoon sound. Two o'clock.

Before they hung up the phone the man asked if she was any relation to Marianne Gardner. Didn't explain how he knows her or that she's a cardiologist at Presbyterian St. Luke's. It's a small world either way. One doesn't mean many Gardners so close to each other.

At any rate the interview is scheduled and he expects her to be at the science building on the University of Denver campus and that is where Verna goes on this blisteringly cold March afternoon. The campus is sprawling and clinical in its promise of intellectual pursuit. All of the trees are bare and shriveled in their misery.

There is no receptionist in the physical sciences building but the directions he gave her on the phone were clear enough. She has to go down into the basement and knock on door B-12. The basement itself hasn't had a good paint job in several years and the floor's tiles alternate every other between black and white. It's hot down here from the boiler room and the steam vents but it's nice compared to how it is outside.

Someone is playing classic rock loud enough for the tinniness of the portable speakers to penetrate their office door but not enough to make out the lyrics.

B-12 is just around the corner.

Verna Gardner
Nerves, nerves, nerves! More than once while putting herself together for this interview, she's had to stop and breathe. But that's all right, isn't it? Just gives one the necessary drive to be perfect.

Hair? Perfect. Clothes? Perfect. She has an immaculate little business-like folder in which she's stored her resumes and reference letters (yes, she has letters of commendation she's bringing just in case). Everything looks brand new. Someone's overdoing it perhaps, just a bit.

Better to over-impress than underwhelm, however.

Click click click go the (sensible) heels on the tile floors as she makes her way down the basement hallway to B-12. Three sharp knocks then, enough to pierce through the noise of whatever experiments (or perhaps that's just the boiler) are going on. Then, one last smoothing of the skirt -- as if she'd allow a wrinkle to ruin everything.

René Jacobs
Associates and assistants are deep in their working when the knock sounds yet the interview is scheduled for a time of day when they are typing and preparing presentations. Not actively gathering data or arguing over what conclusion they would do best to draw.

The door opens to reveal not a student but a tall man in his late 30s or early 40s. Swarthy skin and dark hair gone gray at the temples. Strong features and a trim physique that his clothing only compliments. To call him 'handsome' is an understatement. He is dressed in dark gray pinstriped slacks and a dress shirt. His tie is blue and his suspenders are black. A wedding band on his left hand. No sign of his suit jacket.

She's early. That's an excellent sign.

"You must be Verna?" he asks. Opens the door wider to reveal a handful of graduate and doctoral students typing away at laptops. In person it's easier to peg his accent as French. "Hi, good, you found the place." Time for a handshake before he ushers her inside and across the lab. They're going into another room. "Doctor Jacobs, we spoke on the phone. Come this way. Sorry the accommodations are not so luxurious, I'm sure you saw we get by on grant funding."

He opens another doorway and flicks on a light. Reveals a long conference table and a chalkboard covered in equations. A dartboard on a far wall. A multiline phone in the center of the table. A portable computer table in one corner. Wires everywhere.

Before he joins her in the room he plucks up his suit jacket from where he'd discarded it on one of the chairs in the lab and picks up a manila folder from its resting place on one of the fire resistant tabletops. He shuts the door behind them and indicates that she should have a seat at one of the chairs.

He walks around to the opposite side of the table and even as he's sitting down he asks:

"Remind me, you're working in a call center now?"

Verna Gardner
There's a smile plastered on her face as soon as the door opens, the kind of smile one gives to complete strangers who hold one's livelihood in their hands. A little too bright, a little too earnest. "Yes, Verna. Nice to meet you," she says, and it sounds so very sincere.

She follows inside, takes a seat at the indicated chair (poise must remember one's poise) and then, well, that smile ticks a bit south for a second (only a second) when he mentions the call center. That one stings.

"Well, yes, but as you can imagine, I didn't exactly get a degree in physics to answer phones," she smiles, tries to joke it off. Legs cross. Prim. "So, I don't really mind not-so-luxurious accommodations I assure you."

René Jacobs
So he's willing to laugh at her joke. The grin the laugh cuts across his lips is somewhat lopsided but she's off to a good start. Charm the interviewer. That will make the proceedings easier.

It takes him a few seconds to situate himself in the chair and get the folder centered. He finds his pen in the breast pocket of his suit jacket and clicks it once to make sure it still works before he opens the folder. As he flips through to find her application he maintains eye contact and keeps the conversation going.

He has quite a few stapled application packets in the folder.

"I can imagine," he says. "How long have you been at the call center?"

Verna Gardner
"A few years," she responds, the joking tone running a bit thin. Perhaps she just doesn't like this thread of conversation? "It's not my favorite job ever, which would be why I am looking."

Her eyes wander over the chalkboard, and she can remember this particular class, those particular equations. There's a bit of a faraway look, before her eyes snap back to Rene again.

"If you want, I have," she says, pulling out the binder and placing it on the desk to rummage through. "some letters of recommendation. The online form didn't have any place for me to upload these," she says, smiling, handing out three sheets of paper with what can only guess are glowing reviews of a Miss Verna. One of them, if Rene looks, appears to be from a Dr. Richardson.

René Jacobs
There we go. He found her.

He holds the pen in his left hand and taps the non-business end of it against the table as he scans her resume to ensure he has the right person. There she can see the familiar trajectory of her life during and after college. Her coursework and GPA not only on the resume but on the form application printed out and paper-clipped to the resume.

As he removes the paperclip so he can get at her application she volunteers her letters of recommendation. The older man's eyebrows lift slightly. If she gets the impression that he is not a patient man or that he is used to steering the particulars of whatever social situation he happens to be in that would not be an inaccurate assessment. But he weathers the curveball by returning her smile and holding out his free hand.

"Sure," he says, "I'll take them."

Though he flicks through them out of curiosity he adds them to the stack designated as Verna's without pausing to read them in front of her.

"I'm sure it is in your recommendations somewhere, but, ah, tell me what kind of research you were involved with while you were an undergraduate, if you would, please."

Verna Gardner
"Ahh yes," she smiles, apparently this is a better topic. "One of my professors, Dr. Richardson, his focus was Bose-Einstein condensates. His research involved trying to get the cooling step down to just one, using laser cooling alone instead of in combination with magnetic evaporative cooling. So, we worked on considerably increasing the precision of the lasers for one, and also creating a kind of trap for the condensate to form, without the need of an evaporative step."

Grin. Smile. Impress.

"I did assist Dr. Richardson in his lab, that is also in the application. He ah, commended me on my attention to detail," she states, adding a shot of self-promotion. Hell, it's an interview, if you're not going to promote yourself here, where else would you?

René Jacobs
As she speaks Jacobs finds blank spaces on her r sum  and application to append the information already given to him with what she is telling him now. That she worked with this Dr. Richardson on B-E condensates + laser cooling.

There is no way Jacobs is a research physicist. Although doctors from all disciplines tend to have sloppy chicken-scratch handwriting this particular individual writes the way people who have to fire off hundreds of laboratory orders and prescriptions and discharge instructions. He doesn't write the way someone who is used to running a laboratory as his full-time occupation writes.

"That is definitely something you will need for this position," he says as he finishes his sentence and points the end of the pen at her. "You have experience writing white papers and assisting with presentations then, yes? Have you ever given a presentation at a conference before?"

Verna Gardner
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, any presentations were done by Dr. Richardson or his grad students, I'm afraid," she says, wilting a bit. Yes, they wouldn't trust such things to an undergrad, would they? "But I definitely assisted in the process."

Hopefully that will be enough. Hopefully. They did mention that a doctor was preferred for this position after all. Maybe she'll get very lucky and no desperate doctors of physics exist in Denver, or would be willing to move. Hardly likely, that. But still, the nervous smile, it remains plastered on her face.

A stray hair gets fussed back into place, the self-conscious fidgeting of the prospective employee. She makes sure to dry her hands on her dress, keeping them from getting too sweaty, just in case he wants a handshake.

René Jacobs
It looks like he writes no pres exp on her application but it's hard to tell from upside down and scribbled like that.

"That's alright. You will not be the only person working on this project, so you'll be attending conferences and seeing what goes on. If you're organized and have experience in the, ah, in the planning stages, then that is good. A lot of people don't."

He flips back to her r sum  and clicks his tongue as he thinks of what else he wanted to ask her. It only takes him a second. When he puts the r sum  back down he also sets down the pen and leans back in his chair. Slings an elbow onto the back of the chair beside him.

Look, Verna. He's trying to convey a relaxed attitude. No need to sweat bullets. It would probably be more relaxing if the man didn't ooze confidence. That could just be his physical appearance combined with good grooming and some semblance of wit and articulation.

"You have--not to put too fine a point on it, but you have a very strong GPA. Three-eight-five, no? You have strong references, your coursework is

René Jacobs
exemplary." At least he doesn't ask why all the crappy part-time jobs? "This project, it could go for a year, or it could go on for several years. We may be able to offer tuition assistance, if you decide you wish to pursue a, ah, more advanced degree." A beat. A flicker of a frown. "What do you see yourself doing in, say, five years?"

Verna Gardner
Oh, that piece-of-shit question. I see myself in a call center, jerkface. Smile. A tick of the second on the wall clock in the classroom. And then, "If all goes well, I see myself finally doing something interesting with my life, something more appropriate to my training. I would very much like to return to school at some point, as..." she nods, carefully considering the next few words. "As it has been rather difficult finding that something interesting with only an undergraduate degree, yes."

Still, he's trying to put her at ease, she can tell. The praise, it takes the edge off a bit. Maybe an exemplary undergrad would make the cut?

René Jacobs
This question really is a piece of shit. It's phrased in such a way that it offers a glimpse into the psyche of the interviewee without flat-out telling them that the answer ought to showcase some kind of a plan. Active steps that the person is taking to better their lives. In any other sort of interview scenario this would not be a point in her favor. The interviewer would think that she lacks drive and initiative, that she doesn't take accountability for herself, that she made a mistake somewhere and that's why she only has a Bachelor's degree in this climate.

Most interviewers don't know their asses from a hole in the ground but that's beside the point.

Whatever he writes in the margins of her application she cannot read. Probably could not read it even if she were to look right at it.

"Yes, many qualified young people are competing for not so many positions, I'm afraid."

He clears his throat to signal steering the interview towards brass tacks.

"Now, speaking of setups that aren't luxurious: for the first few weeks, possibly the first month, you're going to be setting up the lab. It's a new facility, and all of the equipment you're going to need to do your job is there, it's just... we have not yet unpacked, eh? You can set your own schedule, so long as you don't go over forty hours before we begin research. Doctor Andr ssy, when the lab is set up and everything is ready to go, he will have more information on what the project entails. I think it has something to do with exploiting atomic defects in diamond crystal structures to transmit information..."

Yeah. This guy isn't a scientist.

"If I were to offer you the position, when could you start?"

Verna Gardner
Rene starts speaking as if she already has the job, and for the first time in this interview, an actual smile -- unbidden -- crosses by those lips. So what if the lab is new, there's no problem starting off on the ground floor, so to speak. He apologizes about the lab? Does he have any idea where she works now? Talk about lack of luxury.

"Diamond crystal defects? That sounds very... interesting," she says, then shakes her head. "Don't worry about the facility, honestly, I would love to get some experience, even if it's just unpacking."

"I could start any time," she adds. Oh yes. No two-week's notice here. Like she'd want to be rehireable there. She can already imagine the "I Quit!" party she's going to have.

René Jacobs
He takes his elbow off the back of the other chair as if he's expecting a stream-of-consciousness to come from the young woman. Like she might have to extricate herself from her current position before she starts another one.

No, Jacobs. She wants to throw down her headset and flip the place the bird and walk out and never look back.

"Alright," he says with a ghost of a laugh when she doesn't do any such thing. "If you have with you your, ah, driver's license, passport, any of those things, I do have to run a background check on you. I can get that started before you leave, and I call you when that clears, and, ah, Friday, you come by the facility, I give you the tour, we can talk pay rate and, ah. Your schedule. Get you on your way. Good?"

Verna Gardner
"Wait, you're serious?" she blinks, not expecting that. Her eyes alight with sudden realization that yes, he is serious. This is fairly close to a done deal. She's never been a felon, the background check will pass. "I mean, that's fantastic! that sounds..."

A few blinks later, and she's reaching into that binder again, to pull out a birth certificate, and then into her purse to pull out the wallet and retrieve her driver's license.

"Here you go," she says, gaining some measure of composure, and sliding over the plastic-protected birth certificate (doesn't it look nice after all these years even? Not a crease) and driver's license.

René Jacobs
Oh yes. He's serious. Maybe he's hoping if she has questions she'll speak up now. Fire them at him. Instead she produces the documents he asked for and tells him it's fantastic. Hands them over.

Something comes across his features as the interview reaches its close. Difficult for her to glean what it might be. Maybe he had been trying very hard to be cordial and charming and conduct this like a professional and now that it's over he's thinking it is fine for him to go back to his default demeanor setting.

It is a definite calcifying though. Like he has to force himself to smile and remain upbeat around her.

"Very good," he says. "I'll be right back."

And he's gone only so long as it takes for him to take a trip down the corridor and photocopy her documents and come back with what presents itself as a release form. It is a release form. She has to sign and date to give the institute permission to run her police records.

At the end of all of that she gets her documents back as well as a yellow Post-It note with Jacobs' number on it to call if she thinks of anything pertinent before he calls her. He shakes her hand again and thanks her for coming in, and then he stands again to signal the end of the interview. The entire thing took more more than twenty minutes and then he's escorting her back out the way she came.

"Alright, Miss Gardner," he says. "Unless you've got a warrant out for you in New York or something, I'll see you Friday, yeah?"

Verna Gardner
"I'm looking forward to it," she beams, even though the man seems to have gone incredibly cold since making her the offer.

"Friday," she repeats, like she's unsure this is really happening. "I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Wonderful, yes. Just to put the cherry on top. She didn't actually want to seem that eager, that desperate. But it shows, doesn't it? As soon as she's somewhat down the hallway, the clicking of heels on tile stops for just a second as she pumps a fist into the air.

And then, smooths out her clothes again.