A lesson in humility

Some of life's lessons are painful. I had a short course in humility on Wednesday with such a job interview. What made it so painful was my realization I am not yet a world-class public affairs specialist. This was a telephonic interview for a PA position with the Department of the Navy in Pascagoula, MS. My internet search of Pascagoula showed it was featured in Ray Stevens' ditty, "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival." It's also Mississippi's largest seaport and home to SUPSHIP Gulf Coast, which stands for Supervisor of Shipbuilding (SUPSHIP), the United States Navy’s agency that administers shipbuilding and ship repair contracts with major shipbuilding contractors on the Gulf Coast. Approximately 400 military and civilian personnel work on this project in the coastal city of approximately 26,000. I had already contacted the Human Resources Department several times to inquire about their progress in filling this position. While we were sitting in the Smith Center (KS) Economic Development office on Tuesday, I got a call from the HR POC requesting my availability for an interview on Wednesday. We were prepared to start home for Tennessee when we left town, but this gave me further motivation to make our trip in one long day so I could have prep time Wednesday morning before the interview. We arrived home to Millington at 1 a.m. Wednesday and shortly after we went to bed. When I awoke early Wednesday I began to prepare for the interview. The Internet's a wonderful source of information and so I scanned articles about the US Navy, Naval Sea Systems Command (which the Gulf Coast operation is part of), Pascagoula's harbors, and the city itself. I armed myself with information about the Navy's rank structure (being an Army vet I knew little about the Navy). And, of course, I visited a few sites to gain insight into what type of questions to expect. My resume and note pad were laid out and I had done more preparation than I had for any prior job interview. I was about as ready as I could be with four hours of prep time. I was also nervous. From the start, the telephonic interview did not go well and I felt -- if it was possible -- it got worse. I had violated one rule of the telephonic interview -- using a cell phone. But since we don't have a land line I had no choice. But one of my early answers was greeted with the response that I was breaking up. So I clumsily tried backtracking over the information again. While I had expected the panel of four to ask questions, only one person asked questions and he was obviously reading from a script. After I briefly answered each question, silence filled the space until the panelists marked their summations of my answers. It was an awkward silence to say the least. No one chimed in with other observations or questions. This was like a word-for-word rehash of every question I had answered on the initial job application. There was no personality; there was no humor. It almost lacked a human element completely. Barb had told me to be sure to smile during the interview, because that emotion would be conveyed in the conversation. I didn't smile. I couldn't smile. There was nothing to smile about. Probably the worst part of a job interview is anticipating the tough questions and then backing up answers with specific examples. I was asked the tough questions. The problem was I didn't have specific examples to share because most of my job-related experiences in this field occurred at least 15 years ago. It was at this point I realized I am not the person for this job. Yes, I have a graduate and undergraduate degree in journalism, but I do not have the recent job-specific experience that the interviewer was looking for. At the end of the interview I was allowed to ask my own questions. I asked who constituted the primary audience. The retiring public affairs officer, in explaining the position, told me it was a one-person operation. His response was, succinctly, "You're it." That summed up his response as well as the lack of any kind of emotion or humor to this interview. After completing the interview and hanging up, I knew this job would not be mine. But as I related the experience to Barb and tried to move past my disappointment, I realized I'd learned a lesson. At my age (57) it is hard to switch careers. It can be even harder to persuade someone to rely on your ancient long-ago experience as an asset for a new job. Having been out of the profession since 1997, I have only my graduate degree to claim as recent experience. And although I love the work, I will likely utilize my talents in a different job or hobby. And that's okay. Now we are looking at another job opportunity in a vastly different field. But it would still allow me the opportunity to write as an aside. That may be my new professional avenue. And it will have humor and emotion, warmth and compassion. It will have some things that were lacking from this interview. Just thought you should know.