A First Meeting

I lunged aggressively into my job search after I got back from Israel. Eager and anxious, I immediately reached out to friends of my parents, parents of my friends, friends of friends and dug deep into my university’s alumni database – a great resource for those looking to expand their network and find contacts in places where they did not have any. You can never predict who you’ll meet along with way, or just how they’ll shape you in the future. Of all the people I met, I’ll never forget one of the first.

Around mid-June, I went to one of the largest TV networks in New York to meet with my mom’s ex-boyfriend. Let me back track, my mom used to date “Scottie” in high school, and years later he became a client of hers. Meeting with me was a favor to my mother. Scottie, as my mom still referred to him, was a nice guy. Amicable, friendly and eager to put me in front of the right people. I liked him.

I explained my interest in news, live TV and production and he immediately set up a time for me to meet with the news director. I was sure I would wow him, land a position as a desk assistant and my job search would have taken me just three weeks. I couldn’t wait to call my mother after the meeting, telling her that I approved of her ex-boyfriend, however short and excessively chatty he may be. He wanted to help me out, and for that, I was grateful.

But brutally honest doesn’t begin to describe the news director’s demeanor. He was edgy, sharp, and hit me with the painful truth in the first 10 minutes: “If one of our desk assistants dies, I’d be happy to hire you.” My lips became still, my vocal cords suddenly locked, and I felt as though eight golf balls had been lodged in my throat preventing me from swallowing. I think I muttered out an “Oh” and tried to crack an agonizingly reluctant smile.

The meeting lasted one hour, yet I remember very little after his heartless comment since my mind was far gone, thinking that’s how I’d have to land a job in this industry, in this economy, as a mere first-year college graduate. I sat in the office, mad at my mother for dating Scottie, and mad at Scottie for setting me up with such a cold-blooded, callous man – though surely neither one of those people were to blame for the news director’s comments.

His words, however coldhearted and pitiless, did not encourage me to go poison one of “the chosen” as I came to call the desk assistants. They did just the opposite: they encouraged me to keep networking and get a job. If this thick-skinned man would be “happy to hire me” under his deemed circumstances, someone else might want to, as well.