"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.

It's getting hot in here

In my role as the SF office for my teeny startup firm, I met last Friday with a young gentleman we are considering hiring to talk more about the firm and the role that he could play in it.

It has been H-O-T HOT in San Francisco this past week and upon meeting me and shaking my hand, he immediately apologized for not having factored in cool-down time after the bike ride to our offices to meet me for lunch. And he was kinda sweaty.

We walked in the hot hot heat to a local fancy-pants sandwich shop ('wich craft) for lunch and took the last table available, which happened to be in the sun. It was extremely warm.

We tried our very best to have a deep and insightful conversation about environmental sustainability research, and I thought we were going to make it through lunch without incident, I really did.

And then: my heavily perspiring interviewee stopped halfway through a sentence about research methodology and said, I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to take off my shirt.

I started to laugh, thinking he was making a hilarious joke about how uncomfortably warm we both were when I saw his fingers move toward his top button.

I choked on my laugh and my grilled cheese in horror and disbelief.

Good thing I'm wearing a tank top, he offered as consolation as his fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons.

Good thing, I thought, as I promised myself I would keep my eyes strictly above the neck for the rest of the conversation which, luckily, we did get through without further disrobing.

Perhaps my favorite part of this whole episode, though, has been the reactions I have gotten from people I told afterwards. Eric, for example, moved pretty quickly from disbelief to, dare I say, admiration.

"The guy was hot. Good for him to just do what he needed to do. I respect that."

My brother, too, was supportive of the interviewee's choice to remove his shirt during a job interview. "I think that's awesome," he concluded.

Have I inadvertently stumbled across some sort of universal male fantasy? Do all men secretly harbor this subversive desire to conduct business in their undershirts? Is this about stickin it to the man? Or are they just really sympathetic of this dude being hot?

And yes, we did offer him the job.