The receptionist phoned me, my candidate had arrived. I walked to the lobby and there was a dapper guy in a velvet dinner jacket, bowtie and tortoise shell rimmed glasses. He greeted me with a big grin, shook my hand and said: “You don’t look anything like your Playboy centerfold.”
Okay, I now hate this guy and have to spend 15 minutes with him. We make our way over to a conference room where we sit at right angles to each other. I cannot remember much of what was said, but did look at my watch several times. He proceeded to tell me about the personality conflict he had with his previous female supervisor. I ask him if he has issues with women and he says YES.
Well thank you for that, I never would have guessed.
For the remainder of the day I could not get his catchy opening line out of my head. I now should mention that my last name is November. Thus, the Playboy reference which went right over my head.
It was not until dinner that night when I was recounting the Bowtie guy to my husband, that the most horrible politically incorrect thing you could say in an interview had been saved up just for me.
Yes, Miss November, me, does not look a thing like her Playboy centerfold. That is definitely one periodical I would gratefully not be seen in. I wonder how long Mr. Bowtie worked on that line before he sprung it on me and what part of his pea brain thought it was a good idea.