I had yet another interview today (number six, I believe). First impressions go a long way, so I diligently prepared myself to make the best one.
I wore my new striped black pants, a red dressy blouse with my new black professional jacket coat to go over it, along with my new pair of black heels that resemble more of a slight boot look than conventional high heels. In other words, I was looking confident and distinguished. I looked so businesslike that I felt like an attorney or someone who could win a court case based on appearance alone, hands down. I've been on so many interviews the last few months than over the course of my lifetime (or so it seems) that it's become second nature to me...I rarely get nervous or flustered. I have mastered the art of interviewing. This is why when I went to today's interview, I felt more like I was the interviewer who was sizing up everything solely on first impressions. Maybe I just caught them on an 'off' day or something, but the whole scenario felt like a challenge in communication, or more aptly MIS-communication.
Rounding the corner of the modest brick building with umbrella in my left hand and purse on my right arm, I walk up to the entrance door. There is a sign that says the doors are locked, encouraging visitors to push the button/ring the bell. I push it. The receptionist appears around the corner from the left side and opens the door for me. I tell her I have a 1:00 interview with Carol (yeah, the irony!). She tells me to have a seat, that Carol will be here shortly and is currently in a meeting. It is 12:45pm at this point. I like to arrive early (my attempt at a good impression, and I'm a punctual person in general anyway).
I comply, asking her if I need to fill out an application while I wait. She looks at me quizzically, hesitantly.
Her: "Noooo...I don't think so. Are you applying for an internship?" (Even dressed professionally looking like I am on my way to court, I still get mistaken for a youngster...good times!)
Me: "No, I'm applying for the full-time child/family therapist position."
Her: (mumbles a bit)..."Oh. No...." (I didn't need to fill out an application)
O. K. ....
I notice it's very quiet in the receptionist/waiting area. The phone may ring once in awhile and there's a bit of activity with employees walking in and out, but otherwise nothing. I look around me for entertainment to pass the time. No magazines. What? An agency without magazines is like a dentist's office without toothpaste. I look around for something, anything! I get so desperate that I actually look to the wall behind me, on it rests a white binder housing the contents of Medicaid information. Yes, it speaks to my desperation. I grab it and give it a look. I open it only far enough to notice there are multiple copies of the same information printed in multiple languages. That's as exciting as it gets, so I put the binder back in its place.
I listen to the intoxicating conversation between receptionist lady and short haired lady. Scenario one with aforementioned individuals involves short haired lady telling receptionist lady how she forgot to put a nametag on her leftovers in the refrigerator and regretfully, a kid ate it. "You know, it's all up for grabs!" Five minutes later, short haired lady comes back out to proudly display her 'fun bag.' I couldn't see the bag because the counter was in the way of where I was seated. All I could see was the long, thick brown messenger bag-like strap. "It's just for fun...a fun bag."
Receptionist lady says "You know what it smells like? It reminds me of when I was a kid and you'd get a new doll...."
Huh? Lively conversation at this agency. I could come up with more exciting material with Manuela and Carol. Geez. Give me some better entertainment to eavesdrop on ladies.
From the way short haired lady made it sound, I'm expecting like a silly (or 'fun') Betty Boop or Hello Kitty bag to be seen on her shoulder as she comes into my plain sight, rounding the corner to get her lunch since the kid ate her leftovers in the fridge. But no, it looks like a bag you'd find at Urban Outfitters...certainly not conservative looking, but definitely not fun: a leather white messenger bag, with yellowish green flowers on it. Nothing that makes me laugh or immediately think 'fun bag.'
That took up about 8 minutes of my distraction time. She calls to see if the woman is out of her meeting. By this point, it is now 1:15pm. I'm starting to get annoyed. My first impression is not boding well thus far. Finally, I'm told to walk upstairs to the second floor where Carol will meet me at the top of the stairs. I suddenly feel like I'm on "Mission Impossible." (This message will self-destruct in five seconds!) When I reach the top, I'm met by Carol and another lady whose name I cannot properly pronounce or spell so I won't even try. I put on a happy face, shake their hands, make introductions. They are pleasant and befuddled.
"We weren't sure if you were coming or not because we didn't get a confirmation call."
I pause and now I'm the one who is befuddled. "Oh....I didn't know I was supposed to call to confirm." (We set a date and time during the initial phone call, during which there was no mention of any confirmation requests). Strike 2 for first impressions, or lack thereof in the communication department. But whatever. Let the show carry on.
Carol tells me to take a seat in her toy strewn and child friendly office. As I approach the armchair, Carol notices there is a rubber snake laying on the seat, playfully apologizes, and flings it on the bookshelf behind her. That was pretty funny actually.
From then on, it was a fairly normal and informal interview. It wasn't that long though, after all that waiting. She didn't even remember whether she had talked to me or if she had left a message on my voicemail. I told her we talked briefly for a minute or two and then she referred me to the website to find out more information about the agency. And I thought MY memory was bad....
20 minutes later, after there were no more questions or comments between the three of us, they tell me that they will be interviewing a few other people and will call me back if they decide to set up a second interview.
What does a first impression indicate when I find myself more interested in writing a blog about them than working for them?
Hmmm.
I wore my new striped black pants, a red dressy blouse with my new black professional jacket coat to go over it, along with my new pair of black heels that resemble more of a slight boot look than conventional high heels. In other words, I was looking confident and distinguished. I looked so businesslike that I felt like an attorney or someone who could win a court case based on appearance alone, hands down. I've been on so many interviews the last few months than over the course of my lifetime (or so it seems) that it's become second nature to me...I rarely get nervous or flustered. I have mastered the art of interviewing. This is why when I went to today's interview, I felt more like I was the interviewer who was sizing up everything solely on first impressions. Maybe I just caught them on an 'off' day or something, but the whole scenario felt like a challenge in communication, or more aptly MIS-communication.
Rounding the corner of the modest brick building with umbrella in my left hand and purse on my right arm, I walk up to the entrance door. There is a sign that says the doors are locked, encouraging visitors to push the button/ring the bell. I push it. The receptionist appears around the corner from the left side and opens the door for me. I tell her I have a 1:00 interview with Carol (yeah, the irony!). She tells me to have a seat, that Carol will be here shortly and is currently in a meeting. It is 12:45pm at this point. I like to arrive early (my attempt at a good impression, and I'm a punctual person in general anyway).
I comply, asking her if I need to fill out an application while I wait. She looks at me quizzically, hesitantly.
Her: "Noooo...I don't think so. Are you applying for an internship?" (Even dressed professionally looking like I am on my way to court, I still get mistaken for a youngster...good times!)
Me: "No, I'm applying for the full-time child/family therapist position."
Her: (mumbles a bit)..."Oh. No...." (I didn't need to fill out an application)
O. K. ....
I notice it's very quiet in the receptionist/waiting area. The phone may ring once in awhile and there's a bit of activity with employees walking in and out, but otherwise nothing. I look around me for entertainment to pass the time. No magazines. What? An agency without magazines is like a dentist's office without toothpaste. I look around for something, anything! I get so desperate that I actually look to the wall behind me, on it rests a white binder housing the contents of Medicaid information. Yes, it speaks to my desperation. I grab it and give it a look. I open it only far enough to notice there are multiple copies of the same information printed in multiple languages. That's as exciting as it gets, so I put the binder back in its place.
I listen to the intoxicating conversation between receptionist lady and short haired lady. Scenario one with aforementioned individuals involves short haired lady telling receptionist lady how she forgot to put a nametag on her leftovers in the refrigerator and regretfully, a kid ate it. "You know, it's all up for grabs!" Five minutes later, short haired lady comes back out to proudly display her 'fun bag.' I couldn't see the bag because the counter was in the way of where I was seated. All I could see was the long, thick brown messenger bag-like strap. "It's just for fun...a fun bag."
Receptionist lady says "You know what it smells like? It reminds me of when I was a kid and you'd get a new doll...."
Huh? Lively conversation at this agency. I could come up with more exciting material with Manuela and Carol. Geez. Give me some better entertainment to eavesdrop on ladies.
From the way short haired lady made it sound, I'm expecting like a silly (or 'fun') Betty Boop or Hello Kitty bag to be seen on her shoulder as she comes into my plain sight, rounding the corner to get her lunch since the kid ate her leftovers in the fridge. But no, it looks like a bag you'd find at Urban Outfitters...certainly not conservative looking, but definitely not fun: a leather white messenger bag, with yellowish green flowers on it. Nothing that makes me laugh or immediately think 'fun bag.'
That took up about 8 minutes of my distraction time. She calls to see if the woman is out of her meeting. By this point, it is now 1:15pm. I'm starting to get annoyed. My first impression is not boding well thus far. Finally, I'm told to walk upstairs to the second floor where Carol will meet me at the top of the stairs. I suddenly feel like I'm on "Mission Impossible." (This message will self-destruct in five seconds!) When I reach the top, I'm met by Carol and another lady whose name I cannot properly pronounce or spell so I won't even try. I put on a happy face, shake their hands, make introductions. They are pleasant and befuddled.
"We weren't sure if you were coming or not because we didn't get a confirmation call."
I pause and now I'm the one who is befuddled. "Oh....I didn't know I was supposed to call to confirm." (We set a date and time during the initial phone call, during which there was no mention of any confirmation requests). Strike 2 for first impressions, or lack thereof in the communication department. But whatever. Let the show carry on.
Carol tells me to take a seat in her toy strewn and child friendly office. As I approach the armchair, Carol notices there is a rubber snake laying on the seat, playfully apologizes, and flings it on the bookshelf behind her. That was pretty funny actually.
From then on, it was a fairly normal and informal interview. It wasn't that long though, after all that waiting. She didn't even remember whether she had talked to me or if she had left a message on my voicemail. I told her we talked briefly for a minute or two and then she referred me to the website to find out more information about the agency. And I thought MY memory was bad....
20 minutes later, after there were no more questions or comments between the three of us, they tell me that they will be interviewing a few other people and will call me back if they decide to set up a second interview.
What does a first impression indicate when I find myself more interested in writing a blog about them than working for them?
Hmmm.
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