Day 176 to 182

Day 176

 I drive to company headquarters to give a talk. Talking about scientific minutiae to a group of strangers is harrowing, especially when your subconscious is screaming “Don’tfuckitup!Don’tfuckitup!” over and over. Nevertheless, things go very well for about three minutes, until a guy walks in late. As I’m talking, I’m watching him, and am becoming increasingly worried as I see clouds of confusion building up on his face. Moments later, he raises his hand.

Science questions from someone who’s not following at all are extremely dangerous. One must simultaneously answer the question, avoid making the crowd bored and answer in a manner that suggests you do not think the questioner is an idiot. In addition, I have no idea who this guy is, and how important his opinion is for whether I get hired.

Wincing slightly, I called on the upraised hand’s owner. As feared, the question was incomprehensible.

New guy: I don’t understand how this drug works. What are you trying to treat with it?

Noah: I’m not testing a drug. I’ve been talking about stem cells.

New guy: [trying again, apparently] What drug were you trying to develop with these stem cells?

Noah: I wasn’t trying to develop a drug.

New guy: So you’re not a pharmacist? This is a pharmaceutical company.

Noah: I have no experience developing drugs.

There it was: a tacit admission that I had no experience whatsoever with the job for which I was applying.

Following the talk (which went comparatively well), I meet with the senior management.  The director of the institute speaks Japanese that is so heavily accented that I simply nod each time he pauses.  This seems to work well.  I have no clue what he is saying. Had he asked me a question, the charade would have been over.

Mickey gives me a lab tour. After chatting with some potential co-workers, we go to a bar (again, Mickey’s idea that this is a standard part of the hiring process).  Driving there, I realize that I haven’t eaten all day.  On an empty stomach, even a tiny amount of liquor will overwhelm my sensibilities.  I will tell people exactly what I think of them.  In my experience, few people are capable of handling an unfiltered assessment from a near-complete stranger.  In a job interview, honesty is the last thing you want. 

The obvious solution was to eat something, anything.  I furiously rooted around Susan’s car, looking for comestibles.  For some reason, there was a two-pound bag of M&Ms in the car.  I tore into them, not questioning whether a pound of M&Ms would be even remotely helpful in staving off drunkeness. 

I walked into the bar with one pound of Hershey, Pennsylvania’s finest chocolate roiling through my stomach. 

We sit down en masse and order appetizers and drinks. Mickey twice asks how many calories are in the mozzarella sticks. I guessed wildly, wondering if this was some sort of test.  Mickey, having outdrank me four to one, turned the topic to movies.  He asked me what my favorite film was. 

I had no goddamn clue at this point.  It was paralysis by analysis.  All day, I’d answered questions.  I had described my efforts to peel back the frontiers of ignorance that baste science.  I’d addressed issues in molecular biology that few people in the world could understand, let alone answer.  I’d probed and prodded and examined every facet of every problem to the point that I could no longer simply open up my yap and just blurt out any old movie that recently tickled my fancy. 

There was also the fact that I wasn’t doing so well physically.  I was sugar high. 

The clock had been running on the question for an uncomfortably long time.  Soon, I would be the weird guy who thinks too hard about an easy question.  My potential colleagues would assume I only watched pornographic films, and was trying to remember the name of the real film Edward Penishands was based on.  I opened my mouth, no idea what would really come out. 

‘What came out’ turned out to “American History X.”

Hmmm.  Not a bad choice.  Decent movie, decent critical reviews.  On the other hand, it’s about a white supremacist who reforms after a stint in jail for murdering a couple of black guys trying to steal his car.  Oh, and there’s also a violent homosexual prison rape scene.  Hardly the sort of things to associate yourself with on a job interview.  “Ever seen it?” I asked Mickey.

“No, but I will,” Mickey promised. 

Take your time, I thought, maybe don’t even watch it until you get around to making me an offer.

Day 182

It’s been over a week. Desperate for something to take my mind off the waiting, I am hanging out at Susan’s hospital, performing an autopsy on a cat that was hit by a car. I’ve just identified the fracture in the spinal column  when the phone rings with the call. They make me an offer. A good one, more than twice the money I was making at the University of Chicago or at the McCompany. Then they ask me if this is acceptable. The idea of trying to negotiate slips into my head. They say you should always negotiate. As I open my mouth to say something, I have a brief memory of a guy who looks like me accidentally opening up a porn site during a job interview and – no pun intended – blowing it. Don’t get fancy, Noah, don’t get fancy. Done deal, I say. We agree on a start date.

It’s over.

At least that’s what I think.

Next Time: First Day at work.

Note: I’m taking a vacation, starting today. We’ll pick this up after Thanksgiving. Don’t worry, we’re almost finished.