The 12-Hour Job Interview. From Hell.

I had an interview at on Friday 2 PM, for a really great job opportunity. The interviewer was an acquaintance, Annabel. It went well.

A former co-working of mine, Lisa, was also interviewing for the same job later that day. She recently moved from Manhattan to New Jersey a couple of years ago, with her husband and three children. She contacted me prior to the interview, suggesting meeting for dinner afterwards. She had some personal issues she wanted to discuss.

Great!

I get a call just before our dinnertime. It’s Lisa, all happy and giddy. “We’ve been having drinks at the bar! Can Annabel and some ‘random guys’ we met at the bar, come to dinner too?”

“Sure.”

They showed up a half hour late. Drunk. Her interview clearly went much better than mine!

We ordered. More drinks, of course. Lisa, who was abnormally skinnier than usual, was gorging on mac and cheese. Scooping up the residual with bread. After dinner she spent about 20 minutes in the bathroom, then ordered dessert. Spent another 20 in the bathroom. Annabel and I looked at each other. Hmmm.

Decided to go back to the hotel lobby bar and ‘find the random guys’. I was game. I hadn’t been out in a while. Too bad I was still in my interview outfit; crisp white shirt, black Chanel pencil skirt, black tights, black Prada suede platform pumps, Chanel purse. Upon arrival at the hotel, Lisa and Annabel called the guys, as they weren’t at the bar. Didn’t have the number. “That’s ok, I’ll just go knock on their door.”

I’m thinking, huh??

‘Motel’ comes down. He has a crush on Annabel. He’s single, but his buddies are all married with children. The guys proceeded to keep the cocktails comin’. I’m nursing a rum and coke. (Well, someone had to have their shit together in this fashtunkina group!)

Lisa is spilling and slurring and flirting and texting. Annabel is busy listening to Motel’s game. Then Lisa begins to tell me about those personal issues. It seems that she is not in love with her husband, of 13 years, anymore. She’d been having an emotional affair with her high school sweet heart after seeing him (and his wife) again at her twenty-year high school reunion. But they had ‘broken up’ recently. She was devastated and didn’t know what to do. (She’s asking ME for relationship advise? What the fuck do I know??)

She had been drinking a lot and on anti-depressants since all this began. And not eating.

I guess that’s what happens when you move to Jersey. (I’m just sayin’.)

She didn’t want to touch or be touched by her husband, but wanted to touch and be touched by every other married man in the tri-state area!!

Meantime, she’s making friends with one of the buddies, ‘Dovid’. They were talking for a while. He seemed nice. He was also, you guessed it, married with children. Then I looked over to my left, and Dovid was gone. Lisa got some texts, a phone call. Whatever.

Then I asked, “Where’d Dovid go?”

“He just called me from his room. He asked me to come up. Should I go?”

“Uhhhhh, NO!”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re married, he’s married and who the heck is he anyway??”

“I’m not going to have sex with him.”

“Well, that’s not what he’s going to think if you go up to his room!”

“No?”

“No!! If wants to see you so bad, ask him to come back down to the bar and talk to you.”

He came back and sat down.

Not too long after, they disappeared. I guess Lisa gave up on asking my advice.

She came back. Alone.

Five minutes later, ‘Hymie’ returns from the W Hotel bar. Hymie’s an anesthesiologist. Married with children, of course. Next thing you know, wine’s flying, hair’s flying, chairs are flying. Lisa’s on the floor.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Hymie’s like, “It’s the chair’s fault. It gave out from under her. Get the lady another white wine.”

I’m like, “Oy.”

To my right, Motel’s still rapping to Annabel. She’s over it.

Since we’ve closed down the lobby bar, they wanted to go bar hopping. I was done. I should have probably gone home hours before, but I had to hang around to see what happened next.

Meantime we all started walking toward the lobby. Motel and Lisa were ahead. We all stopped at the front doors, but Lisa and Motel kept walking, toward the elevators. We watched them. Walk and walk. The elevator doors opened. They stepped in. And we all looked at each other.

“What just happened?”

“They just went into the elevator.”

“What about bar hopping?”

“I wanted to say good night to Lisa. Tell her good night for me.” Oh well. It’s 2 AM, and I’m still on a job interview. 12 hours now! Way too long as far as I’m concerned. But then I thought, so is Lisa.

Something tells me she’s not getting the job.