Verbal

 

    About five years ago, I had a funny experience during aseries of job interviews in Philadelphia.

 Theorganization doing the hiring was a large, prestigious non-profit, and althoughthe position in question represented apotential change from my usual area of professional endeavor, I was veryinterested even though the salary was modest. 

   Initially I met andspoke to four or five subordinate attorneys in the department, all of them intelligent andpleasant, during the course of several hours, recounting my life story and reciting my resume skills in various characterless offices andconference rooms, regarding Philadelphia's gray-brown frost outside the windows. 

    Finally, I was ushered in to meet the General Counsel, a womanwith a lot of presence who simultaneously gave an impression ofaccomplishment, joy and melancholy. 

    We had a good discussion about the position, the organization and bothour careers and backgrounds.  She had been a nurse before going to lawschool which, given her field of legal specialty, was a valuablequalification in terms of both the analytical and affective components of herjob. 

    Midway through our conversation, describing her approach to work,she said "I'm an alcoholic."  Shequickly corrected herself, substituting the word "workaholic," looking surprised and embarrassed, but laughing. 
  
  It was anawkward and unsettling moment.  From the instant I met her, I had wondered whether she was an alcoholic. 

    I didn't get the job.  They told me that the funding required for the positionnever came through, something I'm happy to say I was able to confirm through othersources. (I'm distrustful by nature.)  This recession has been a brutal depression, really, a terrible long winter.