Old/New World Discourse: Cabbages, kings, and job counselors

Sometimes life events are so incredible as to necessitate writing them down. My plan is to keep a record for my children, for myself, and for others so that the oddities in my klita process can become a source for laughter and reflection. Consider the following.

Not too long ago, I sent in my paperwork to an ad provided by a fairly reliable list serve. Soon thereafter, I received a follow-up phone call. Whereas the positions available were full-time rather than part-time (given Computer Cowboy's knack for hopping around the world, I need to spend some time at home with our sprouts), and whereas the source turned out not to be an actual employer, but a placement firm, I was willing to pursue the lead a bit more; as I tell the folk with whom I am working on shidduchim, you never know where a connection for something suitable will be made.

So far, so good. Ha! Remember, this is the State of Israel, where, even beyond linguistic considerations, there are many layers of "translation" to take into account. Thus, using a polite form of discourse, I asked the placement counselor a little about herself. Suffice it to say that she was neither trained nor experienced in human resources.

However, among the firm's listings, as I discovered by a further call to the counselor's office, which connected me not with her, but with a second counselor, who was even more junior, was a science writing position. I like writing about species and about molecules, about human psychoses, and about alien humus ("humus," per say, is decaying organic matter, not chickpea spread; the latter is spelled with two "m"s). Even a measure of Israeli ineffectiveness does not usually deter me from tracking a science writing job.

The counselor's subordinate went on to explain that their firm represents positions in marketing communication and in technical writing (i.e. in chiefly creating or editing documentation for hi tech companies), too.  I thanked her.

The counselor, meanwhile, set up a time for me to meet with her. I looked at my calendar and wondered if the science writing position would still be available by the time that my interview with the sourcing company had ended. I agreed to a meeting.

Later that week, as I was mulling over the skills with which the counselor and her junior had communicated to me, I decided to call and find out more about their company's placement process. I was glad I chose to ask.

It seemed that my interview would only cause the counselor to send my resume to the organization with the science writing position. The placement officers wanted a look-over, no more. I suggested a phone conference, instead of a four hour round-trip schlep for a "look-over." That choice worked for me since the subsequent "interview" lasted all of three minutes.

At the appointed time, the counselor failed to call. Fifteen minutes later, I called her. Sadly, the conversation went something as follows;

"Hi. I was looking forward to hearing from you."

"Sorry. Something came up."

"Oh. Do you still want to interview me?" (Having taught Interpersonal Communication, Business Communication, Career Development, Argumentation and other kindred courses, in which many details about interviewing are essential components of course mastery, I was beginning to build more doubts about my job counselor).

"Sure."

"?"

"What type of job do you want?" (This person has had my multiple page CV in her electronic file for almost two weeks and had spoken to me, on the phone, several times already).

"I'm still interested in the science writing position."

"What about a technical writing job?" (Note: TW pays about twice what science writing pays, both here, in the Old World, and there, in the New World. Recruiters often make their living based, on a month's salary of each person they place).

"No thank you. I'm really interested in the science writing position. Would you send in my paperwork?"

"Sure. I'll add a letter of recommendation to it, too." (Based on what? The job counselor had yet to solicit any useful information from me).

"Thanks."

"Maybe you would consider an internship?"

"No thank-you."

"We have training programs available in technical writing, too. The field is very lucrative."

"No thanks."

"It's not too late to start."

"I'm just not interested. I've already taught university-level courses in both Technical Writing and Editing and in Business Communication. I'm not interested in the industry application." (At this point, I'm shaking my head. Did she even read my paperwork? All I could hear on the other side of the phone was the "sound" of shekels in a bank account).

"Are you sure?"

"Thanks. I've turned down such offers" (a decade or so before you were even born).

"Well, if you change your mind. . ."

"Thanks. Please forward my paperwork to the science writing job."

"I'll leave your identifying information off so we can help you prepare for an interview there" (so the counselor can connect the fee and the organization does not contact me directly).

"I can handle interview questions."

"We just want to be there for you."

"I believe you entirely."

__________________________________________________

Little Smile

Amazing events occur in sets. Concurrent with coordinating with the aforementioned counselor, I was being chased, by a start-up company, thanks to the well-intended, but not formerly disclosed, efforts of someone who works with olim.

I tried to dissuade the manager calling me, by telling him that I was middle-aged, frumpy, and opinionated. I even told him that I was religious! He replied that he held no prejudices and invited me to visit his office the next day. I jockeyed for the middle of the week; I don't get excited over pyrite.

We played phone tag a bit. Suddenly, the manager developed a need not only to hire me, but also to test me. He emailed to me a silly questionnaire whose structure and content made the forms, which certain universities use to assess the language skills of EFL or ESL students, look sophisticated. For kicks, I filled it out.

He told me that his "Content Assessment Specialist" (such glorified words can be used to fertilize plants during nonshmittah years) would evaluate my answers. Mind you, he was calling from a start-up company with less than five full-time employees.

When I contacted him again, in an attempt to follow-up (time spent, in the early 1980s, in corporate public relations, taught this old mom a thing or two), he apologized to me, saying his company's immediacy had been real. While I was electronically playing with the words and commas, sent by him, he was interviewing and hiring someone else.