Marie Antoinette, 1740
Bill four writing paper one monetary people fiscal college he on occasion ally, guzzling beer with a few other "hypers" watching I Love Lucy reruns on the tube. He got an accelerated MBA in eighteen months of day school, night school and summer session.
Now it was time to get a job, his first. He had an interview scheduled for 7 am with an executive vice president of a large investment bank. Bill wasn't keen about the early hour, but he decided to consider it a good sign. These people must be real go-getters, he thought, the time-is- money-and-none-to-waste type, my kind of people.
He arrived downtown with ten minutes to spare. On the corner, he noticed constant activity around the big pushcart under a bright red and yellow umbrella. Everybody was buying "coffee and" as early birds arrived and the back-office night shift left for home.
Great idea! He thought. A breakfast meeting and I'll supply the breakfast. Shows I'm thoughtful. It'll keep things equal and informal, eating together. And besides, I'm hungry. So he bought two extra-large containers of coffee, a couple of bagels slathered with cream cheese, and entered the bank at 6:55.
The receptionist (I guess they all start early here!) ushered him and his brown bag into an elegant conference room with two deep leather sofas flanking an oriental rug and a low glass-topped coffee table between them. The executive vice president came in immediately.
"Bill, good to see you. Welcome to our fine old institution. Sit down, sit down, please, and call me Sean." He was younger and friendlier than Bill expected, handsome, athletic and wearing what looked like the most expensive suit he'd ever seen, certainly custom-made and probably from Saville Row in London.
Bill offered breakfast, and Sean was delighted. They sat opposite each other on the couches, opened their coffee and bagels on the table, and began to talk as they ate.
This is the way it's supposed to be, Bill thought. Sean was listening attentively to everything he said, often nodding in agreement. The interview was going so well, in fact, that Bill began to relax. He leaned back into the plush sofa and crossed his legs.
And his right foot kicked the table, hard. Two extra large coffees cascaded over the Oriental rug, Sean's sofa and his suit.
Soaking Sean's suit would be more accurate. And to top it off, half a bagel landed cream cheese down in Sean's lap.
Bill, of course, was totally flustered. Sean was gracious, but obviously annoyed. He excused himself, and a woman from Personnel finished the interview.
Bill never did hear much of what she said in the next six minutes. He stood and stammered as four maintenance people blotted up the mess and glared at him.
Two days later, Bill received a polite rejection letter from the bank. He was relieved. It could have been a cleaning bill for Sean's suit.
The consensus among hiring managers is that bringing coffee to an interview is perceived as trying too hard, too personal or unprofessional.
