The importance of being earnest

(Yes, so I do it again. I wrote this for the Sunday edition of the newspaper and where that was cut to fit the space available, this one isn't. And now I feel really old and, more frightening, old-fashioned. Talk about needing to update skills!)

The office has just been inundated by a veritable flood of young trainees. Chirping and chattering like sparrows all a-twitter about a new brand of birdseed, under the frivolous exterior they have a serious single-mindedness that is, in a way, frightening. They know it all, they say it all and they firmly believe that they can do it all. And they have their careers planned meticulously, working their ways into the departments they want to be part of, and aiming to get there with élan and enthusiasm from the opening phrase of the first meeting with prospective employers.

We were different. The average journalist, when I started out, was badly dressed, tentative in approach and hesitant in speech. Like I was during my first real job interview. The occasion made that unforgettable impression on me and the lady who spoke to me. I had been at a photo-shoot for a magazine that wanted me to model some very odd clothes for it, and was unexpectedly summoned – I cannot quite remember how, since it was before the age of cellphones – to meet the editor. So I turned up at the imposing office, dressed in full photographic makeup, high heels, a tasteful sprinkling of beads and baubles and a robe. To give my completely inexperienced self some credit, it was a very respectable robe that buttoned nicely up to the neck and could have been one of the chic smock frocks that is back on the catwalks today. The editor chatted with me, one eye furtively looking me up and down, perhaps wondering if I moonlighted as someone with a not-very-respectable dark-time job, and in the space of about ten minutes, had hired me for a salary that seemed astonishingly high to my naïve mind.

My second job interview was more typical, I know now. I was called to an office that I had only heard of, but never been to. With my propensity for getting lost, I started out with half an hour to spare and did a few U-turns and roundabouts, finally getting there with just enough time to park my car and register at the front desk. The gentleman I was to meet kept me waiting for 15 minutes or so, finally waving me into his room and pointing silently to a chair. He sat. I sat. He read through my resume and stroked his chin. I looked nervously at the rack of books above his head. He flipped to the third page for the second time and cleared his throat. I goose-bumped and subdued a nervous burp. He started talking, I stammered my first reply….not too long afterwards, he offered me the job. I took it.

From that historical perspective, today’s trainee is certainly a new species of bird. One that may be learning to fly, but has no hesitation in spreading its wings, clacking its beak and digging in its talons.