Dateline: April, 1980-something


After several layers of mousse and blow-drying, I sprayed my head with hairspray until I was certain my hair was cemented in place. I tucked my toes into my dressy boots, whispering, “Please, God, I really need this job.”

I looked out my bedroom window, and muttered a hallelujah as the snow was still falling. It was April, and the daffodils were already up, but the only decent outfit I had was a winter suit and I didn’t want to look like a doofus. The previous day had been warm and 60 degrees, and showing up in a wool suit to a job interview would not have earned me any points.

I rolled the car down the hill and popped the clutch. It started right up. Thank you. My battery was usually dead on cold mornings, but my brother had already left for work and I had no one to give me a jump start.

I drove through the winter wonderland, carefully following the hand-written directions on a piece of notebook paper. I was almost to the destination office when I saw cops putting out the glowing orange cones to close the road. Whew. I just made it, as they closed the highway behind me.

I was called into the interview, and recited my resume to the man with the big brown eyes.

Then he asked me why I left my last job.


I didn’t lie. “I was fired because I shared confidential information with another employee.” I took a big gulp of air. Then, the golden words flew out of my mouth. “But that can be a good thing because I will never do that again.”

The man with the big brown eyes stood up and shook my hand. “I’ll let you know.”

Yeah, right. 

I went down to the lobby to leave, but the highway was closed because of the blizzard. I sat in the lobby, penniless and unemployed. But at least I was stylish.

My stomach growled, my throat ached for water, and my head spun with dizziness. I watched out the window as the snow continued falling and the wind blew.

Several hours later, the storm ended. The plows went out to plow the roads. A security guard announced that the roads were opened and we could leave.

The phone rang the next day. It was the man with the big brown eyes offering me the job. “You won out over 7 other people,” he said. “You have a good background, and you presented the best professional image. You start on Monday.”

I gasped for joy as I hung up the phone.

The blizzard and the hairspray had saved the day.

That’s the story of my job interview, during the winter storm of April, 1980-something.





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