I’m 39,800 feet up and heading home. I receive a text message from my Assistant.
“7:30 am tomorrow. Meeting just hit your calendar.”
It was 3 years ago. I had slogged through a conga line of candidate interviews – job hoppers, unexplainable gaps on resumes, typos, gum snappers…and…poor chemistry.
She stepped into my office. I scanned her resume. Professional presentation. No typos. Higher education. Limited job hopping. OK, so what’s the catch?
It was late afternoon. We walked through her work experience, why she was looking to leave her current role, how she’d found me. Her responses were polite and brief, no extra words. Two introverts suffocating the silence. Do I bring this out in all candidates? Is it me?
I pivot to my concerns.
“You seem really nice.” Like shy. Like meek. You aren’t thick skinned enough to handle this, or me.
She forces a slight grin, prepares to respond, but doesn’t. More awkward silence. Jesus, what do I do with this?
“I don’t think you can keep up, with the pace, or with me.”
“I think I can.”
“I need a gatekeeper that can manage the Gate. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m not chatty. And especially not in the mornings, it’s my catch-up time.”
“OK, I understand.”
So, here we are, ~ 3 years later.
Badda-Bing and Badda-Bang.
Humble. Polite. Nice.
An Iron Fist on the Gate.
My M*A*S*H Radar O’Reilly.
An indispensable extension of my right hand, who has my back.