I wrote this story with my momma in the Fall of 2016. All names have been changed to protect the innocent (and barmy).
After a panel interview with seven senior administrators – at an unnamed Maritime University – I said to the headhunter, “So are you hiring me for this position? Or are you hiring me for the job of campus president?”
I nearly fell off of my chair when, instead of answering my question, he told me that the next step was providing him with nine references.
Three from people who were in superior positions, three from my peers, and three from individuals who were my junior in the professional world.
I said to him – “This is paranoia gone crazy.”
At this point, I didn’t even know if I even wanted the job anymore, so I told him, “I don’t know if I want this job anymore.”
You would think that was the end of the line, but you’d be wrong.
After providing nine positive references and a blood sample, (I’m kidding but I wouldn’t have been surprised), I was told that the person to whom I would be reporting needed to speak to my current boss. Flabbergasted, I asked the headhunter how he thought that would look to my employer.
“There is no way this is going to over well,” I said. “Where is the win-win for me?”
It’s also at this point that I should point out that everything about this process had done a complete number on my self-esteem. I had begun to think that the university had discovered some hidden malfunction within my character, and each step down the rabbit hole was one new way of checking to make sure that I was indeed a legitimate candidate.
The whole experience was so stressful that after I received an offer of employment (and accepted it), I literally had to flee the country.
In an effort to relax, and mend my frazzled nerves, I booked a holiday cruise around the Caribbean.
Unfortunately, my imminent, sun-drenched relaxation was immediately railroaded by an emotional breakdown at Pierre Elliot Trudeau Airport – the catalyst being watching every flight take off for Florida, except for mine.
My healing process had been usurped by a crash course in full-blown disfunction – courtesy of Air Canada.
As I stressed about missing my trip, some hapless flight agent told me, “Oh don’t you worry. Cruises never leave on time.”
I asked her, “Wanna bet?”
This did not make my flight leave any earlier.
Because of my tears, Air Canada did bump me up to business class – probably out of fear that I would completely fall apart in coach and traumatize everyone within my immediate flying radius. Never mind that the reason for my distress was Air Canada’s awful and unreliable service in the first place.
I spent my entire flight worrying about my cruise.
Unfortunately, upon my arrival in Florida, insult was immediately added to my misery. Even though the airline literally ran me off of the plane, I couldn’t get to my luggage because the baggage carousel had broken down. The cruise van was hustling everyone to get be on board, but I steadfastly refused to get on the vehicle. Instead, I stayed behind, defiant to get my clothes. There was no way in heck I was going to wait two days for my stuff.
After half an hour, I got my bag. Upon exiting the terminal, I could see that the ship hadn’t yet left the harbor.
I threw twenty five dollars to the nearest cabbie and ordered, “GET ME TO THAT SHIP.”
The guy was pretty happy as it was only about a two minute ride to the dock.
When I got to the boat, there were six cruise personnel waiting for me. Each one of them practically carried me up the gangway and threw me onto the boat. As I brushed myself off, I heard the captain announce our departure, apologizing for the delay that was due to a “rogue passenger.”
Four thousand people delayed because of little old me!
Once I put my luggage in my room, I went to one of the ship’s bars and ordered the biggest drink the bartender would give me. This ended up being gin and tonic the size of a milkshake, filled right to the brim.
I met some people and they told me, “Oh! You were the one that was holding us up! We kept getting announcements.”
My claim to fame.
The thing about that trip was, I had never before been on a cruise and I was concerned about getting seasick. A friend had told me about the gravol patch that you wear on your arm, so I went out and bought a pack.
Turns out, that stuff really threw me for a loop and I was stoned for the entire trip.
I would go to the gym and couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was going on!
It wasn’t until I returned and started my new job at said aforementioned unnamed Maritime university that I finally figured it out.
After recording my out of office answering machine message, a colleague told me, as diplomatically as possible, that “it sounded a little strange.”
I listened to it and was horrified to hear that beyond strange, I sounded completely out of it on the other end of the line!
There I was – the candidate that survived three interviews, nine references, one reference from my immediate boss – unable to string together a coherent sentence.
And I am sure they were wondering, “Who have we hired? And how didn’t we find this out sooner?