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That could only mean one thing -- he was one more casualty of war.
I needed a drink.
O'Malley's was one of those classic Irish pubs in downtown Manhattan. The building was narrow, with exposed brick, industrial lighting and a magnificent bar imported from Ireland and set up to mimic the original back home in Dublin. The place was filled with patrons when I arrived, and the music was some version of Irish ballads.
On one side of the bar was a set of dart boards, and on the other were a dozen tables filled with patrons. The bar held a number of stools at which the regulars sat and drank. Keith was at a table near the dartboards, and I saw several other staff from work sitting with him.
Callie from the admin side of things was currently playing darts with Joe, one of the advertising managers. People were laughing and having a good time. They'd all been there for at least an hour before I arrived.
"There you are," Keith said when he saw me. "Come and have a seat." He pulled out one of the chairs and I sat down, glancing around the table, trying to put names to all the faces.
"You know everyone here except Jana," Keith said, naming everyone for me. He stopped at a new woman I'd never seen before and didn't remember hiring. "Jana is a friend from Columbia. We worked on The Review together."
"Ahh," I said and nodded in her direction. "Good to meet you."
The Review was Columbia's journalism student paper. Keith had worked on it before being hired by MBS. I suspected that this was Keith's way of having her audition for a job at The Chronicle. If Keith wanted her, I trusted his judgement.
"I've been wanting to introduce you to Jana," Keith said. "She was the editor of The Review the year after I left."
"Good to know," I said, ordering a scotch when the waitress came by.
Then, for the next fifteen minutes, she told us all about her year working as an intern for a small paper in Massachusetts, where she did her undergrad. While I was initially interested in her experiences, I started to zone out after it appeared she was going to keep telling us the day in and day out mundanities of her life in Washington while she covered some political controversy.
It wasn't that I didn't care about politics. It was that these smaller elections weren't really all that important to my view for The Chronicle. Plus, she seemed to really be pushing her credentials, talking about her connections to people at The Post.
"So, are you hoping to work for The Post when you graduate?"
"Not necessarily," she said and smiled. "I'll be graduating in the spring but I'm already looking. Keith said you're rebuilding The Chronicle from the ground up. That sounds exciting."
I nodded and smiled, although I wasn't sure I felt all that great about her. While I appreciated confidence in people, I also liked to meet people as humans first, and as job applicants when the time was appropriate. She didn't seem to realize that this wasn't a job interview. In other words, she was a bit too forceful too soon for my management style, which was pretty laid-back.
Okay, she was pushy.
I didn't like that in men or women. Ambition was good, but I wanted to be Josh first when I went to a bar for drinks. Not Joshua Macintyre, Jr., CEO of MBS and potential boss.
It was probably Keith's fault. He should have known me well enough to advise her not to hit on me for a job when I first sat down. Maybe she should try to bebe a
human being first and then, later, ask me about whether I had any openings.
Keith knew I was recruiting for The Chronicle. Jana’s lack of tact in a personal situation was a big turn-off for me. Even if she had the best credentials, I'd have to see her perform better in a business setting to ensure she would be of value to the paper before I'd hire her.
So, I put her in the maybe column -- if she showed that she could treat me like a human being. I didn't want to deny someone a position if they were highly qualified and as the editor of the student paper at Columbia, she had skills.
For the next hour, we talked about various things, played darts and watched the game on the big screen TV against the wall. Jana and I played a game of darts, and she was good, a skilled player. While we played, she continued to push herself as a great candidate for The Chronicle.
"You should contact my headhunter and get yourself on her list," I said and told her about Marcella, who was doing all the hiring for my paper.
"Why do we need a headhunter?" she asked, standing beside me with her hands on her hips. "I'm here right now. Let me come in for a job interview. I’ll send you my resume. I'd be a great addition to the paper."
I laughed, amused by her obvious confidence. "She does all my screening. Give her a call. Submit your resume. She might be able to find you a job anywhere you're interested."
She stepped closer and leaned over to me.
"I'm interested in you." She actually raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Me?" I said in surprise. "I thought you were looking for a job."
"Until then, I'm single," she said and sipped her drink.
