the adult prodigy project

no, yes, then no again

Note: There is an f-bomb I can’t get myself to take out of this story. I might change it later, but right now I just feel like sometimes ageism requires cussing.

I didn’t know what chapter three would be about. I didn’t even know there would be a chapter three. But in No Way could I have seen this subject coming. I know I sound redundant by now – see chapter one – but this job was mine. At this point, it’s bordering on hilarious. I mean really. I wasn’t even going to accept the job. After the in-person interview, I was so depressed, I needed to walk it off. I had to find my way to that ‘Yes’, and it was a journey getting there.

It was going to be part-time – the saving grace, as I couldn’t allow a situation like this to take over my life. This was going to be the better-than-nothing option. This was going to be the situation I could stomach, only because I knew how temporary it would be (six months maximum, I’d decided, unless some type of miracle happened).

The ad was for a Copy Editor. Come to find out, at the interview, the position would also include writing, pitching ideas, and generating original copy. No problem, but that would’ve been nice to know ahead of time. 

When a person is trying to pay you a flat fee per (nine-to-five) day, as a Copy Editor and “occasional” Copywriter, that is less than what you’d be making for a six-hour waitressing shift, alarm bells go off in your head. 

Alarm bells go off in your head when a person tells you he hires “Nuttin’ but women”, and they keep ringing even after he has explained himself in response to your laughter. Jon*, the Executive Editor, has a wife, and daughters, he tells you, “And I just think you guys are smarter.” You think he means to make you feel better about his line of thinking. Or does he even understand the way he sounds?

Then he goes on about how each of the women he hires brings something unique to the table, including attractiveness, “And I say that in your regard too,” he adds. You laugh because you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing. You laugh as a defense mechanism. “No, I mean it,” he continues, “You’re a very attractive woman.” You laugh because you’ve got rent to pay, and in moments like these you’re reminded that sometimes, for the sake of survival, the revolution has to wait.

“Look around, I hire nuttin’ but women, and we’ve been doin’ that since before the #MeToo movement, right Carmen*? Carmen’s my right hand around here.” You look at Carmen and notice her almost wince as she nods. The awkwardness is palpable. You feel like you’ve just had a whole conversation with Carmen in a matter of seconds, without saying a word. All eyes and vibe. “Nuttin but women, and we don’t know how old they are,” he adds, and you wonder why he just said that. Has he googled you and made assumptions about your expectations? Are you being paranoid? But seriously though, who the fuck says that? Where did it come from?

You laugh your way through these awkward moments. You take the materials he tells one of the women in the office to get you – the write-up from The Post, the latest copies of his magazines, circulation printouts, etc. – You put all that in your bag, and when he adds “So waddaya think? Is that rate gonna be okay for you? … I think you could fit in really nicely wit’ us,” you’re gracious. You tell him that it seems like it could work, but that you would like to go home, sit down with the materials, do some math, and get back to him. You leave with a smile on your face, and the feeling that you’ve just been punched in the gut.

You know you need to walk. So you walk. You walk long enough for tears to fall; long enough for you to think through and digest the experience you’ve just had. You walk long enough to get to a place where you can actually say ‘Yes’ to a situation that your instinct initially wanted to run like hell from. It can be temporary, you remind yourself. And what if the situation, once you enter it, turns around? What if it gets better? What if you actually take to the guy? What if he’s just like that ‘harmless’ uncle in every family who means well, even though his delivery is clumsy? Plus, it will be mostly remote work. You travel far to find that ‘Yes’, and you find it. Rent is due.

Back in my own skin, with my ‘Yes’ in hand, I reach out two business days later via email, as promised, to let Jon know that I agree, that we could be assets to each other; that I could fit in with his company; that I’ll be ready in the two weeks he’d approximated it would take to get me on board. I’ve told a couple of friends, both of whom balked initially when I described the interview; both of whom also traveled far within themselves to find support for my decision to step into this position.

You get a reply on the next day, thanking you for your time and interest, “However, we decided to go in a different direction,” it says. They will keep your application on file for consideration, should a future opening come that is a fit for you.

And just like that, the job is yours, until it isn’t.

Ageism, is that you I smell again? 

That’s the nature of this beast, isn’t it? It hides in the spaces between the words.

At first, the ‘No’ came as a blow of sorts, which makes me shake my head in retrospect. But I’m able now to zoom out and see the bigger picture. That job was about to suck the life out of my soul. The Universe heard my gut’s original Booming ‘NO!’ and listened, even as I tried to stray from it. Now it feels like I got saved by a guardian angel. I’ve never been more grateful to not get a job.

Here’s to chapter four being about an entirely different subject matter. I hope none of you has ever gone through an interview like this one. But I know that, in this society, that’s sadly unlikely. As always, your thoughts and stories are welcome in the comments.

* All names have been changed