This just socks.
I had an interview several weeks ago with a woman whom my recruiter described as a “socialite”. No joke. The woman actually used that term to describe herself. I stopped listening to the rest of the job description while on the phone as images of a wealthy woman danced around my mind, entertaining the celebrities and debutantes of Houston while dining on fine caviar and champagne. I grew more and more excited, picturing myself in a glamorous floor length gown, laughing at Jason Bateman’s witty jokes and giving big hugs to Kate Hudson. These celebrities don’t live in Houston but surely we would meet somehow. I would be invited to all the best Hollywood parties, and weekends in the Hamptons. As I brought my awareness back, I agreed to the interview. I had to meet this woman.
Other things I knew about her:
-famous Jewish author/speaker
-lives in River Oaks
-has an INCREDIBLY demanding social calendar
-hosted Richard Gere and the Dalai Lama at her home when they were in town
When my recruiter was describing her to me, she kept mentioning that she was working on her second “doctrine”. Through context clues I realized she probably meant “doctrate”, considering the fact that the “doctor” already had her PhD and was going back to school for a second one. A second doctrine. A new set of beliefs. Don’t we all need a new set every now and then?
It sounded promising. At the very least, good blog fodder. The interview was scheduled to be at her mansion in River Oaks, one day after work. Very well. My recruiter called to remind me to call her “Dr. so and so”, not “Mrs…”. I sighed and hung up the phone. What is this, amateur hour?
That morning I put on my best (only) suit, some sharp pointy toe boots, and I’m off. I research her all day long and find that she has done countless interviews and written heaps of articles on the subject of juvenile education, behavior and development issues.
Very cool. I would be most happy to edit these articles and help her with her papers.
I get lost trying to find her house. Turns out, you have to look for the uber secluded driveway shrouded with trees and foreboding to trespassers. I pull up and the massive white colonial gawks at me expectantly. But I’m not nervous – just curious.
I ring the bell and a sweet maid answers the door. IN A UNIFORM. What is it with rich people and their need for uniforms?
She asks me to take off my boots. I hesitate. It’s a bit of an odd request really. I’m not used to kicking off the old boots and padding around in my socks for an interview. The first thought that goes through my mind is “this woman must be so uptight.” This thought then led to the next problem. If she was the type of woman who demanded her guests to be shoeless, she would certainly be bothered by my sock choice of the day:
One Halloween sock and one Christmas sock.
But I just shrugged and took off my boots. Nothing I can do about it now. The interview went as expected – she is a grandmother in her 70’s and has had so much plastic surgery her face is smoother than mine. Her home is literally DRIPPING with wealth. I walked through 5 rooms in the south wing before getting to her sitting room where I was to interview.
She asked me if I led a very organized life, apart from my socks. Oh, you.
She mentioned how glamorous this job would be, that I would be talking to Richard Gere, Goldie Hawn, Bill O’Reilly, minister this, queen that, etc.
Give it a rest lady.
She also gave me quite a lot of suspicious looks, as if every answer I gave her was a full blown lie. It was the strangest, most beautiful experience ever.
But I didn’t get the job. I’m sure it was the Christmas sock, defiling her Jewish home.
Bummer. I really wanted to ask Richard Gere what working with Julia Roberts was like. She’s swell 🙂