job fairs

When I was in my twenties, I used to go to job fairs sometimes. I would think to myself, “I wonder which crop of losers is going to show up at this one?”

The really hopeless ones would have people to jump out in front of you with a clipboard and stop you from walking by. “Can you start tonight?”

I was walking by this one display where the company’s name was KGB. That was intriguing, plus the interviewer met my gaze and sweetly beckoned me over to the table.

She was cool, hysterically funny, and depreciating about the company. “This place is ridiculous, but you might like it.”

It turns out KGB was a call center that did directory assistance lookups and upsells in a building beside the interstate east of Greensboro. She invited me out there for an interview and testing, so I went.

Part of the testing was spelling where she flipped open a telephone directory and found words for me to spell: attorney, concrete, plumber. I nailed them too easily, so she closed the directory and said, spell “bourgeoisie.” I wasn’t 100% sure, but I nailed it, too.

She told me the place was basically a mess, but was kind of fun, and she felt like I could probably be running the center within a year or two.

I really wanted to work there, but a better offer came in. I’ll never know how it was over at KGB.

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