Let Down, Hanging Around

Five days ago I was ecstatic that I'd been asked to come in for an interview at one of the local urban lifestyle magazines here in Houston. In light of the overabundance of media in the city that seems only interested in rich people attending expensive parties for people with money, this rag certainly seems to reign supreme what with their interviews of bands I care about and features on areas and events I might try. "This has to be it," I figured, as I quietly tried not to get too excited and imagined how I might deal with the utter heartbreak were I to be passed over.

Yesterday I interviewed with the biggest douchebag I've ever encountered in upper management. I'm not just saying this because I didn't get the job (whoops, spoiler!), no this was my position immediately after the interrogation (cause really it was) as well.

The stage seemed set as I entered the business' suite in a surprisingly run-down building. For a magazine that prides itself on its glossy pages and cutting-edge fashion and design opinions, I was surprised to find the office housed in such a derelict building what with its stained carpet and scuffed walls. Upon arrival I saw one man sitting alone in a conference room, ibook poised (complete with oversized quicksilver sticker) and magazines strewn about him on the table. It was too perfect a scene and I suspect now that it was choreographed. This was not anyone's office and this guy was not getting any work done in there.

And he was the man in charge. I thought I'd be meeting with the female editor I'd emailed with, but it turns out I was meeting with her as well as another female editor and this "dude" in the conference room.

Oh what a dude he was. The laid back office atmosphere and nonexistent dress code certainly appealed to me, but I think this guy was a bit too old to sporting his designer t-shirt non-ironically. If not that, then definitely his buzz cut mohawk--better suited to someone ten, if not twenty, years his junior. But more glaring were the sunglasses. The blue, mirrored, fashion glasses he wore the.entire.time. ON HIS FACE.

The interview lasted all of twenty minutes and it seemed largely like an opportunity for the dude to talk about himself and his accomplishments and then briefly accuse me of something which I would either refute or explain. Rather than asking me questions about my capabilities, it seemed more like a test to see if I was up to their standards of 'cool.' And this guy's wearing mirrored glasses? Of course I pale in comparison. I obvisouly don't even know what cool is!

He was the type of guy I talk shit about unprovoked when I seem him across the room at a lounge-y bar that one of my friends has forced me to patronize. Sometimes I feel bad about the assumptions I make about unfamiliar people--people I've never met or spoken to but who I assume must be assholes based solely on appearances. But then every once in a while I actually do talk to one of these guys, and I'm confirmed in all my presumptions.

It wasn't just his nasty attitude or ridiculous attire. It was the two phone calls he took, both times while I was mid-sentence. It was the fact that he didn't mind in the slightest when one of the other editors present interrupted the discussion to announce an email she's just received. It was his complete and utter apparent lack of respect for me as a person and the way he projected an air of cockiness. An attitude I deem undeserved given that the nature of his magazine pretty much prevents it from having any new or groundbreaking content (unless you count what hats are hot this season as an example of such) and the fact that in a brief read-through of one issue I spotted three typos, and I'm not even the stellar proofreader I told him I was!

I was torn after the interview. I know I probably won't get another opportunity like this in the near future. I would love to work for a magazine covering topics I'm interested in and I know that this experience, unlike any of my other jobs, would really start me on the path toward a career I could enjoy and be proud of. On the other hand, I can't imagine working for someone like him. I've considered that maybe he was just doing his best to scare me--acting his toughest to see how I'd react--but I'm not sure that's the case. And even if it is, I don't like what that says about the man.

We both had one chance to make an impression and I suppose we both failed to make a positive one. At least I don't have to fret over a decision, though. They did the hard work for me.