Seumas MacManus a
Hey, buddy, Kevin here. Pizza and a keg at my place Friday night, okay? Come early and stay late. Pass the word. See ya." He left the same message on all his friends' answering machines.
Kevin lived in a "singles" apartment - The Party House, they called it - on a little lake in Ypsilanti, Michigan and worked in the finance department at General Motors in Detroit. But not for much longer, he hoped. He was just one of a crowd of MBAs there and wanted to move ahead to a small or mid-size company where he could be noticed. He'd been answering job ads nationwide for three or four months.
By 9:30 Friday, though, he wasn't thinking about a new job. The party was in high gear, and Kevin, with more than a few beers down already, was much more interested in the leggy redhead at the CD changer. Who is that, he was wondering when the phone rang. Still ogling the redhead, he answered it.
"Daniels here."
"Mr. Daniels? This is Mitch Anderson of Anderson Manufacturing in New Haven, Connecticut. You sent us a resume in response to our ad in The Wall Street Journal for a financial manager. Say, did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No, not at all, I, uh, I just have a few friends over. Can you hold on a minute while I switch to another phone?"
He punched the Hold button and elbowed his way into the bedroom, evicting a couple who were getting to know each other better, and closed the door. It shut out most of the noise.
"Uh, Mr. Anderson?"
"Are you sure this isn't a bad time? I could get back to you." Jeez, he thought, should I tell this guy I'm too full beer now to talk business? He'd never call back. Besides, how do you say. Look, I'm sorry, could you call back when I'm sober? Definitely unprofessional! He giggled at the thought.
"No, no, really, it's fine, no problem."
"Well, I liked your resume, Kevin, and I'd like to hear a little more about you. What attracted you to the position described in our ad?"
Kevin closed his eyes and tried desperately to think. He must have answered a hundred ads in the past few months, and drunk or sober, he couldn't remember Anderson Manufacturing. Luckily, he was at his desk where he kept all the ads he'd answered in the top drawer. He searched through the drawer frantically. Meanwhile, he stalled.
"Well, uh, you see - it's Mr. Anderson, isn't it? - well, Mr. Ander son, I've always been interested in your type of business, and of course your company has a great reputation in the industry." Whatever industry that might be, he thought, still searching.
There it is! Anderson Manufacturing! He pounced on the ad and read:
WANTED - hands-on financial manager with good people skills, general ledger experience, excellent verbal and presentation skills. Works well under tight deadlines.
"And how would you describe yourself, Kevin?"
"Well," he said, holding the ad up to the light and mentally crossing his fingers, "I'm a hands-on type, really like to be involved, you know? I'd say I have good people skills, and I enjoy presentations. Tight deadlines don't bother me, I know general ledger inside out and people say my verbal skills are pretty good."
And if you have your ad in front of you, I'm finished, he added to himself, but at this hour, you're probably calling from home and the ad's back at the office. He held his breath.
The beer gods were with him. Mr. Anderson responded enthusiastically, "Terrific! That's exactly the type of person I'm looking for. You know, I think it might be worthwhile if the two of us...."
Kevin never found out what might be worthwhile for the two of them.
At that moment, someone picked up the kitchen phone, giggling loudly, and shouted, "Hey Daniels, you friggin asshole! Get off the phone, will ya? The keg just ran dry! You're the host, god damn it, and we're all drunk. Go out and get some more beer!"
The unidentified drunk slammed the phone back on the hook, and there was total silence on the line.
"Uh, look, Mr. Anderson," Kevin mumbled weakly, "I, uh, I think maybe we should...."
"I guess I really did call at a bad time," Mr. Anderson stated coldly.
"I'll talk to you again after the weekend. Good night, Mr. Daniels." He hung up.
The next week came and went with no call. Kevin got Anderson Manufacturing's phone number, but could never catch Mr. Anderson in. He left messages, but they were never returned.
