If you were interviewing for a position within my heart, I’d say, Tell me your credentials and give me examples of your work ethic. You’d list all the things that you did in the past that prove you’re good at working in the heart but you admit, quietly, that although you liked those places, those hearts, you just didn’t feel they were environments within which your true potential could flourish… and that’s what brought you to my heart. You believe you are the right candidate for the position and you would say, “I want the full-time management position of your heart” and then you’d smile and add, “I’ll even throw in some data analysis,” and so I’d say, “Great, we need a data analyst.”
“What else can you offer me here, if I were to come work in your heart?” you’d ask, and I’d reply, “There are great benefits. First class. It’s like fucking Google in here.” You’d tell me you saw the piece in Wired Magazine about us being one of the best places to work, but you’re glad to hear me confirm it. You want to know when you can start if I hire you and I’d say, “The position is effective immediately.” Then I’d add, “Wait, do you need two weeks notice to tell any other hearts you’re in currently?” and you’d say, “No, I’ve been unemployed for quite some time. I really wanted to wait to find the right position before taking any job as I wouldn’t want to take a seat somewhere unless I could see myself being there a while.”
Then I’d say, “But hey, the economy, it’s been terrible. I mean, you must have —” and you’d stop me, quiet me with your finger, and confide in me something you’ve never told a potential employer of the heart before: “I’ve never filed for bankruptcy, even during the recession. I’ve saved relationship dollars in a small bank so I’d be okay on a rainy day, but then my uncle – who was dying – said, You better not wait for the rainy day because you might die before it comes. That was depressing advice and I didn’t want to just spend my heart money but I realized that I should be more proactive and try to find the right position, now, rather than wait until the time was better because heck, is the timing ever better?” I’d shake my head, No, in agreement.
This would make me really happy because I’d know you really were ready and that you wanted to work in my heart, not because you just needed to. I’d ask you again, just to make sure, if this is a temporary position and you’d say, “I want to see this heart grow! I want to be a part of why it explodes! I want to see it become the biggest heart that’s ever graced the cover of Fortune Magazine!” I would be beaming now, so hard my cheeks would hurt because this would be the best interviewee I’d ever interviewed. But then, you add, ”I want to have shares of your heart so if it ever sells, I could make more money from it.” That’s when the high would drop; You’d said too much. “You would want me to sell shares of my heart?” I would ask as tears welled up in my eyes because I’m really looking to employ someone who wants my whole heart, not a piece of it. I want someone to buy it and to commit to it and it not be just a good investment so he can buy a better heart in the future. “No, no,” you’d shout, retracing. Retracting. “You got me wrong! I meant I want to become the CEO of your heart and I never want to make it public. I want to own the whole thing, forever.”
Okay, good, I think. “Well, then,” I would say, extending my hand. “Welcome to my heart.”