Thick-Skinned and Flexible

This morning I had a job interview at a local TV station, a very well-established broadcast network affiliate. This, I thought, would be the perfect way for me to put my technical skills and broadcast background to use in a professional manner- the step up to TV from radio isn't all that steep, the basic principles are the same- you have a number of incoming feeds, those feeds are directed to various storage and/or broadcast devices as needed...it's a 24/7 deadline-based environment where every second has to be accounted for. There are lots of knobs, blinking lights and VU meters. It's my kinda place and I felt well-prepared going in.

My interviewer is a middle-aged woman named Lucy who apologizes for not shaking my hand when we meet- her allergies are acting up, the leaf mold, you know- and she doesn't want me to get sick...
I wasn't aware that allergies were contagious in any sense save a hereditary one, but I decide not to ask questions...I want that job. Badly.

"I see you have some broadcast experience...", Lucy trails off, I take this as a cue to explain what I do at the radio station.

"Well", I begin," I've been with the station for nearly three years and I've logged over 120 air hours so far this year alone; that doesn't include production time on other person's programs and the training I provide..."

Lucy cuts me off. She recites the call letters of my radio station as if they were an epithet.

"I found your station by scrolling the dial. By accident."

She pauses until that word settles in, then continues," The DJ was playing jazz. Then it was bluegrass."

"Well, yes," I start to explain," we have shows that cover nearly every genre, each DJ has their own niche..."

No, says Lucy, it was the same DJ. She didn't much care for what she heard, not at all- it sounded like "nonsense" to her- however, it is good that I have experience.
But.
There is another problem.

She reaches into a manila folder, pulls out my job application, turns it to face me and slides it across the table...I immediately assume it has something to do with the questions beginning: "Have you ever been convicted of...", but that is not the problem. Not yet, anyway.

"Mr. C, you do keep FCC records , do you not?"

"Well, yes, I log my own hours..."

"Then you know why this is unacceptable."

"Uh..." No, I don't.

"Your signature. It is illegible. When you sign the FCC logs, your signature must be distinct and legible. This signature is unacceptable. "

I assure her I can correct that.

Then she tells me that they are looking for someone who is "thick-skinned". There are "geniuses and prima donnas " who are hard to deal with and a person needs to be "thick-skinned and flexible" in order to work here...the exact phrase "thick-skinned and flexible" is used so repetitively that I start wondering if I am applying for the position of armadillo.

I am given a variation of the standard vacation/sick leave/scheduling policies- the main thing being that there are, of course, no Holidays off...the station is on-air 24/7...there are generous vacation hours given as compensation, as well as double holiday pay-including twice as many paid hours off as my old job, hmmm, not bad...I don't mind working on X-mas for double pay...what is the starting range?, I wonder to myself.

As if reading my mind, Lucy tells me that full-timers can start to expect to start at "just over twenty"...this is great news! I haven't made that much since I worked for the Census- back in 2000, twenty bucks an hour was a damn good wage! Gas was eighty cents a gallon, etc...

Finally, someone willing to pay me what I am worth! Woot!

"Ah, that's twenty thousand dollars a year, not twenty dollars an hour", Lucy says.

I wonder if she is a telepath. I start doing math in my head...

"It's about $9.65 an hour," Lucy tells me, adding to my fears that she can read my mind.

If Lucy had been a real telepath, she'd have kicked me out instead of giving me a facility tour at that point, because I was thinking that there was no way in hell that I could survive on under $400 per week. This isn't a cashier job- you have to know stuff- how can they expect to pay under ten bucks and still find someone qualified? The Library pays more than that to stock shelves...still waiting to hear about that.

The station tour was interesting. I love big racks of electronic devices and a TV station is a good place for that sort of thing- I was shown the "conversion shop" , which is a studio full of nearly every sound and video hardware device imaginable, along with the software to convert it to digital, edit-friendly formats. It's geek stuff, but I like it and I wish I had one of my own...here's where all the feeds are queued up, see...it's frame-by-frame, seamless, :30 to :00 and back again, all day. The job looks complicated, but it's not...but it does look interesting.

I start thinking about doing some negotiation regarding salary...I could be very useful to this station and I could learn some skills in the process...maybe if I get the part-time Library job, I can somehow schedule the two together so that I can get enough hours to make ends meet...wheels are turning...hmm.

Lucy wants me to meet her boss. He is the one I will see for my second interview, which seems to be inevitable...we trundle down to his office and find him absent. Darn.
I'd like a chance to meet him, make a good impression for my impending money-grab.

"Ahh, JP isn't in. Too bad, I just noticed something I need to ask him..."

I give her a quizzical look and she elaborates.

"Well, I see that you have Federal criminal convictions. Five of them. That might not matter, but I'd like to ask JP about it...he is the one that will be doing the background investigation..."

What? She noticed right away that my handwriting sucks, but it took her 20 minutes to notice that I have a criminal record?

Everything changes.
Suddenly, Lucy has to make some calls...we will finish the tour during my follow-up interview.
They will call me. Next week. Maybe the week after.

Where am I parked? Lucy wants to make certain I use the nearest exit. ASAP.

That didn't go well.
I'm pretty desperate, so I call the temp agency again. Is anything coming up next week?

They have lost my file. AGAIN.
FOUR TIMES.
Four times I have been out there to take tests and fill out forms. Four times they have lost my paperwork.

I very politely explain this to the Temp Girl. I ask her to look me up in their system.

I am put on hold, which causes my anxiety to rise, so I pop a couple of Xanax. By the time Temp Girl returns, I am starting to mellow out...

"Well," she says, "I have an office position, temp-to-hire, interviewing tomorrow morning. It's just basic PC and filing, answer the phone, office stuff, ya know. Not complicated, some typing maybe...oh yes, I found all your papers too!"

Alright!

Her job pays almost three bucks an hour more than the TV job is offering.
Office work is generally easy, broadcast work is generally not, so you would think it would be the other way around...it doesn't make sense, but do I hope I get the job...or jobs. I may have to work two or three part-timers, but at least I'm getting a few calls.

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Tomorrow: I ask my landlord for a favor. One week, is all I'm asking. I have been here for seven years...just one week. Please.