Oscar Wilde
Cancer is an ugly word. So is melanoma. But that's what I heard when I called Stewart a while back.
I hadn't spoken to him in several months, and I knew he'd been looking for work. And yes, I also wanted to ask if he had any funny interview stories to pass along.
Amazingly, he was in high spirits.
"They took a big slab out of my back a couple of months ago," he told me, "but they say they got it all. That's the good part. It took a hell uva bite out of our savings, but it sure changes the way I look at things." We talked for a while and I decided not even to ask if he had any stories for my book. But he volunteered, no prompting.
"You'll appreciate this one," he said, and went on from there. As soon as Stewart was up and around after the operation, he got back into his job search full force. He decided not to mention the cancer to any prospective employers for fear it would scare them off. It'll come up in a pre-employment physical, he reasoned, but by then they'll want me.
Stewart got a call about a sales job while his back was still healing. At the interview, he sat very tenderly in a straight-backed wooden chair as the sales manager described the job. As long as he sat up straight and leaned a little forward, away from the chair, his back throbbed but he was fine. He certainly had better posture than ever before.
Anyway, the sales manager was young, much younger than Stewart, and expected all his people to be excited, enthusiastic. "I want you to feel like shouting about this job," he fairly shouted himself, "about how much you love it."
Stewart thought that kind of pep talk had gone out twenty years ago, but apparently not. He tried to look enthusiastic - leaning forward like this makes me look eager, he thought - but his back was really hurting by then.
"Well, Stewart," the young sales manager ended at last, "that's pretty much my whole rap. Whadda ya think?"
Now Stewart tried to be enthusiastic. "Sounds great! Wonderful! Exciting for sure!"
As they were walking out to the lobby, the manager told him, "Stew art, I'm really impressed with your background. You'll be hearing from me soon." And in the middle of the office, he landed an encouraging but resounding slap on Stewart's back.
"Aaaaaaaah!"
"I couldn't hold it in," Stewart told me on the phone. "I never felt such pain in my life! The entire office, thirty people, stopped and stared at me.
"And you know what I did then?"
I tried to guess and couldn't. "No, what?"
"I did it again! He wanted enthusiasm, I gave him enthusiasm.
'AAAAAAH! I LOVE THIS JOB! I WANT IT! AAAH, YES!'
"That's what a lifetime of sales training does for you," he laughed with me. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the people in the office, including the sales manager, just stared at me. Like I escaped from a funny farm.
"He walked me to the lobby in absolute silence. Not another word. He even stayed away from me all the way out, like I might turn violent or something."
I laughed again. "Did you ever hear from them?"
"Nope, not a word I think they all ran out and gargled when I left."
Stewart is fully recovered now, and he had several interviews scheduled when I spoke with him.
Luck, good or bad, can play a pivotal role in an interview.
If this one doesn't work out, keep looking.
