"We'll be in touch" said the Lone Wolf. An email exchange after a phone interview for a sales position. I met with 4 people. 4 separate meetings. 1 Zoom and 3 Google Meets. He was the only one that didn’t turn his camera on. Just his initials in a circle on the center of my screen. I sat there like a fool in my suit talking into my computer. I could see me, I wasn't sure if he could.
He asked which one of the 5 sales model profiles did I consider myself to be.
Then he backed up, “are you familiar with the 5 sales profiles?”.
Like an impatient mechanic rambling potential reasons for a car that wouldn't start, he started to list them: Lone Wolf. Relationship Builder... I'm not sure how far he got before I gave in to the gimmick. "Relationship Builder" I answered hoping I sounded more positive than annoyed. Elaborating on this feels wrong. Exploiting interactions and stripping away any sincerity. Like going from organic to plastic. "I've worked different markets and different regions" I explained what was written on my resume. I get to know people and go from there. Some have become good friends and sometimes it is has been strictly transactional.
I hear myself use the words honest, loyal and helpful. Now I'm the one rambling.
“I'm a Lone Wolf" he humorlessly howled back.
Shit. I was hoping you'd be human. I didn’t say this to the faceless voice that identified as an animal and had the personality of an algorithm. But, I wanted to.
The bubble of unemployment isolation has allowed me to forgot that there are packs of people that qualify, commodify and categorize common sense. I’ve skipped the webinars and deleted the inspirational quotes. Flooded by reminders “to dance in rain” I’d rather float away. I might be too far gone I think as I sense the Wolf wandering. On cue, his dogs start barking in the background. Sounds like an alarm going off. The allotted half hour is up. He has to go.
A few days had passed and it was still gnawing at me. Add the blur of breaking news and daily death counts. A permanent pandemic and recurring riots.
I'm doing the groceries and back in the deli line. This young routine is growing up too fast.
“We’re closed, come back tomorrow” the woman behind counter says like a comedian sick of her own jokes. “See you tomorrow” I play along and place my order.
“Is it gonna snow?” she asks me as she takes the roast beef out of the deli case and puts it onto the slicer. "I don't know, I haven't been paying attention.” I’m wearing a hat, gloves and a scarf but forgot it was Winter. "Me neither" She confesses "I stopped watching the news”. Then she paused like she was searching for the right words. Or maybe she found the words but didn’t want to say them out loud. "Too many things” she said as she wrapped up the conversation… She sliced the roast beef thin. “Its nice and rare” she tells me with pride and hands me the red meat.
After groceries. Before lunch. Walking my neighborhood walk. I smell the smoke from Joe’s cigar before I see him.
He’s also wondering about the weather. A common question. “Any snow coming” he asks as he exhales a cloud of smoke from his cigar. He’s in his regular spot on the bench on his front porch. Shifting himself into the rays of sunshine to get a little warmer. I repeat my line from the deli, “I don't know, I haven't been paying attention”. He'd rather be cold than shovel he tells me as he motions toward the plastic shovel waiting in the corner.
“Where you going?” he asks.
I explain my before-lunch walk.
“I wish I could walk” he says and taps his legs with his cane.
He had a job for me. He shows me his new Zippo lighter. A gift from his wife. It’s personalized with “Joe” on it. It wasn’t working. He was using a plastic one. Could I get him a wick and flint from the cigar store? He had sent his grandson out but he came back with just the lighter fluid. “So stupid!” Joe yells. Infuriated and exhausted by the lack of common sense.
“Too many things” I thought and I walked to pick up the fire producing parts to calm Joe down.
Later, I finally hear back from the Lone Wolf. Sort of. An email from his CEO.
“Dear Greg,” it reads. Dear God…
I robotically skim it for keywords & phrases:
“regret to inform”
“candidates who more closely fit our hiring criteria”
In my kitchen there’s the irregular chirping sound of dying smoke detector batteries. It has been waking me up too early every morning. A cyclical reminder. Cause and effect. Smoke and fire.
Flints and wicks. Wolves and sheep.
Too many things.
Take the batteries out and add them to my list.
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