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“Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.”
“It's okay,” I reply. “Thank you.”
We go through some of the standard interview questions – typical, boilerplate stuff I'm prepared for. I'm able to give her some snappy answers that I think put me in a pretty good light. I'm most impressed with myself, though. As the interview has gone on, I've been able to put all of my nervous energy into a box and shut the lid on it. I think I come across as cool, professional, and like I have myself put together pretty well. If I were to rate my performance, I'd give myself an A.
But the grade I’d give myself doesn’t matter. The one Ms. Reynolds would give me does. She seems pleased enough with my responses and that's all I'm really concerned about at the moment.
“Tell me, Emily, how do you handle yourself under pressure? How do you cope with a demanding boss?” she inquires.
Her eyes narrow in on me and I know these aren't just meaningless questions. I know that what she's telling me is that the man I'd be working under would be demanding and the position is probably pretty stressful. It's a little worrisome, given that it's an administrative assistant position. I'd basically be a glorified secretary – how demanding and stressful can that be?
She's waiting for my answer, so I summon up my courage once more. “I handle high-pressure situations well,” I tell her. “I always manage to keep my head and find the solutions, rather than inflame the problems.”
Inside my head, I'm giving myself a high five for that answer. I had to come up with it on the fly and I think I knocked it out of the park.
“As far as demanding bosses are concerned,” I continue, “aren't all bosses a little bit demanding?”
I give her a smile, hoping to score a few points by playing the humor card. The corners of her mouth twitch upward in a kind of – almost – sort of – smile, but her face remains passive. She's like a statue, this one, and clearly a little bit of humorous charm isn't going to crack that veneer.
Okay, moving on then. “Personally, I believe in doing my job efficiently and always anticipating my boss’s needs,” I explain. “My belief is that so long as I'm doing those two things, it will defuse any potentially stressful or upsetting situations before they can even get rolling.”
Ms. Reynolds gives me a small smile and a nod. Finally, I get some sort of positive reaction from the woman. She pushes her tablet to the side of her desk and sits ramrod straight in the chair, her perfectly manicured hands folded on top of the desk in front of her.
“Just to be perfectly frank with you, this position can sometimes be – challenging,” she explains. “It's actually more of a personal assistant type position than anything.”
“I thought the job posting was for an administrative assistant,” I frown. “I don't understand.”
“It is, and there is a degree of clerical work involved. The job posting was written by somebody who no longer works here and was unfortunately – vague. It was poorly worded,” she goes on. “But, if selected for the position, you will report directly to Mr. Steel – the founder of Frontline. You'll be accountable only to him and won't be part of the normal secretarial pool.”
I sit back in my seat and fold my hands in my lap, a little irritated. Okay, so it's not exactly what I thought it was when I sent my resume in. Why am I upset about that? I think it's because the job posting wasn't entirely truthful. It made it sound like a secretarial position, not a personal assistant position. And while the two are similar, there are plenty of differences to be had.
As a secretary, I likely wouldn't have to fetch his dry cleaning or run down to the corner and pick him up a coffee. At least, I didn't think I would. I'm pretty sure, though, as this Mr. Steel's PA, he could order me to go do all those things – and more.
There's also a degree of personal involvement I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with. I'll be at his beck and call, and I don't know if this guy respects boundaries. I can't necessarily trust that he won't call me in the middle of the night – or anytime when I'm off the clock – just to have me go fetch him a sandwich or something.
I don't know a lot about personal assistants, but what little I do know is that some guys treat them like chattel slaves and feel entitled to intrude on their personal time in ways they wouldn't with regular employees.
Yeah, I don't know if I like this – at all.
“I understand your concerns about the nuances of the position. Believe me, I do. But you can trust me when I tell you that Mr. Steel, though demanding and rigorous, will never behave in an inappropriate fashion,” she tries to mollify me. “He's tough, but he's a good man with a good heart. I tell you this both from my own personal experience and in an effort to provide full transparency. He will demand a lot of you, but he gives back far more than he expects.”
I have to physically restrain myself from fidgeting in my seat. The fact that the job posting implied something different about the position than she's telling me sets off warning bells in my head. Maybe I'm a cynic, but it comes across as a bit – shady. I'm at war with myself inside simply because I need this job, but it feels like I'm being blindsided by information I didn't have going into this interview. And that automatically sets me on edge.
“It's because of the nature of the position,” Ms. Reynolds offers, “that the pay rate is significantly higher than your normal secretarial position.”
That's true. I guess I should have considered that. It was the starting salary that caught my attention first when I was cruising the job boards. It's the pay that pulled me in. Should it matter that the position is more, as she said, ‘nuanced’, than I thought when I first sent in my resume?
I mean, it's not like I’ll be able to retire in Bora Bora on what they're offering, but I'll definitely be moving up a tax bracket and will be better able to provide for myself – and maybe even have enough left over to enjoy my life a bit more.
I give her a smile I hope looks authentic and lean forward in my seat. “I understand. And it's not a problem for me at all. I'm sure Mr. Steel will be pleased with my efficiency and attention to detail.”
For the first time, an actual toothy smile crosses Ms. Reynolds' face. “Excellent. I'm very glad to hear that because, personally, I think you're a tremendous candidate for the position.”
“Thank you.”
We wrap up the interview with a few more probing questions from her, which is followed by some more pleasantries and small talk. She puts on a cool mask of indifference and keeps that professional distance, but there's something I like about this woman. I feel like she maybe gets me in some certain ways. Maybe she comes from a similar background or something. I don't know. But I feel like I established something of a rapport with her and maybe – hopefully – that's what is going to set me apart from the other candidates.
As I walk out of her office and back toward my car, I let out a long breath, hoping that the connection I feel like we built will earn me a second interview, if not land me the job outright.
