"Interview"

Last night, after my first yoga class in far too long (and that is a whoooooole different story), which went no fewer than 25 minutes late, I raced to the Intercontinential Hotel bar to interview a Director of Sales candidate for my firm.

"I'm having a hard time imagining what kind of interview you'll be doing at a hotel bar at 9pm at night," confessed Eric as I was getting ready to leave the apartment.

It was a fair question. And knowing that even daytime interviewees have been inspired to take their shirts off mid-interview, this evening/hotel/bar arrangement seemed fraught with opportunities for unprofessional behavior.

"At least he's not actually staying at the hotel," I offered.

I found Michael in a big chair in the hotel lobby.

"Is it weird that I suggested we meet at a hotel bar?" I asked him.

"There's a cool-looking Irish dive bar a block over. We could go there instead."

Not really my point.

"It's probably quieter here. I think this is better."

The interview, such as it was, proceeded without incident. I was so relieved.

Then as we were walking out, he to his car and me heading home, we were making small talk and he asked about my boyfriend, what's his name, what he does and so on. I gave him the scoop, then asked if he was married or had a girlfriend. He shook his head no.

"But I have a lover," he said.

Right.

And yes, we will be hiring him.