When I got back to my office I somewhat giddily left Mary a voicemail. She was traveling that week, but I wanted her to know that we had completed our task, that we had a new system for screening talent that I thought she would be pleased with, and that we needed some time on her calendar to present it to her. While I was leaving the message my own voicemail light went on, and I was still feeling strong when I punched in my code to access my mailbox.
“Hi, honey,” my wife’s self-assured voice sounded. “Give me a call when you get this message. The company from Boston just called and they want to set up a phone interview at your earliest availability. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. The woman I spoke to was very nice. Love you.”
I deleted the message and put the phone back in its cradle. It was late in the afternoon and the office was starting to clear out. Even with Mary out of town, I felt a little awkward about following up on another job from my office—from a phone owned by my present employer. I thought about it for a minute or two, turning more considerations over in my mind than the situation really warranted, and eventually convinced myself it would be better to just cut out a few minutes early and talk to Jenny about it at home.
When I got there she was both surprised and disappointed to see me. “Why didn’t you call me? Boston’s an hour ahead of us. They might not be in the office anymore.”
“It didn’t feel right,” I said. “Calling from the office about another job.”
“Oh, Alan, please. You don’t work for the mob. Next time, just close your door.”
I had come in through the garage so Jenny led me to the phone sitting on a small table in our front foyer, directly at the bottom of the house’s main flight of stairs. Her stomach was big enough now that she was wearing maternity clothes, and I watched as the hem of her blouse flounced up and down with her movement. When we got to the foyer she started dialing the number for me.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Who am I calling?”
Instead of answering she simply pointed to the notepad beside the base of the wireless phone. Looking down I saw written in Jenny’s graceful script a woman’s name, the name of the Boston company, and a phone number with a 617 area code. When I looked back up Jenny was holding the receiver out for me and I could hear the distant Boston phone ringing. I quickly put the phone against my ear just as the line picked up.
“Hello, Pamela Thornsby.”
“Hello, Pamela? This is Alan Larson.”
“Alan,” the voice said, sounding relieved. “Thanks for returning my call. You caught me just before I walked out the door.”
I gave Jenny a stern look. “Is it a bad time? Should I call back tomorrow?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Pamela said. “It’s actually better that we touch base now.”
I heard the shuffling of some papers from Pamela’s end of the line and then she quickly resumed. “I’m the human resources director for Quest Partners, and we received…yes, here it is, we received your resume and application for the account executive position we have open. We’d like to set up a telephone interview for sometime next week, if that will work in your schedule.”
Jenny moved closer to me and I knew she was trying to hear what Pamela was saying.
“That’s great,” I said, pushing Jenny gently away. “Can you hold a minute while I grab my calendar?”
“Absolutely.”
I put the phone down and went to retrieve my calendar from my briefcase. As I was doing so Jacob appeared at the top of the stairs and began calling down for Jenny.
“Mommy!”
“Shhh!” Jenny hissed, springing up a few of the steps and motioning for Jacob to quiet down. “Daddy’s on an important phone call, honey.”
Calendar in hand, I picked up the phone again. “Okay, next week,” I said as calmly as I could. “Earlier in the week is better than later for me.”
“But, Mommy!” Jacob cried, if anything, louder than before. “I need your help!”
“How about Tuesday?” Pamela asked in one ear.
“One minute, honey,” Jenny’s voice echoed in the other. “After Daddy finishes his call.”
Now my mind was racing. I knew Mary was back in the office next week but I didn’t know what was on her calendar. I didn’t want to schedule this interview for a time she might later choose for our meeting on the staff qualities. Figuring she would want at least a day to catch up before meeting with us, I said, “That could work. But Monday might be better.”
“Mommy! I need you RIGHT NOW!”
“I’m sorry,” Pamela said. “I’m booking all the phone interviews for next week and Monday is full up. I do have a spot on Tuesday morning. Will that work?”
I looked up at Jenny. She was halfway up the stairs now, crouching like a bloated crab to keep both me and Jacob in her sights. She had one arm extended towards Jacob with a cautionary finger raised, but her face was turned back towards me, her ear cocked as if still trying to listen in on my telephone conversation. “Just a minute, honey,” she said.
I waved my hand at her violently, trying to shoo her the rest of the way up the stairs and keep Jacob quiet. “Yes, what time?” I said into the phone and then clamped my hand over the mouthpiece so I could shout-whisper at my wife. “Go deal with him!”
“Ten o’clock?”
Jenny looked about ready to start an argument but Jacob began bellowing Mommy again and that got her moving finally up the stairs.
“Yes,” I said, watching Jenny turn Jacob by his slender shoulders and begin marching him down the upstairs hallway towards him room. “That would be fine.”
“What number should I call you on?”
Jacob was still babbling, going on and on about something missing from his train set and Jenny needing to find it for him, with Jenny hushing him the entire time. She eventually got him behind his closed bedroom door, and that muffled him enough that I thought I could concentrate again.
“Uh, would it be all right if I called you?” I asked, realizing I wouldn’t want to take the call at home or at the office.
“Yes,” Pamela said. “Just use the same number you called today. I’ll be here.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Was that your son?”
My mind was wandering, thinking about quiet places I could go to make the call on Tuesday—a coffee shop, the library, my car in a corner of the parking structure.
“Excuse me?”
“In the background, was that your son? When I spoke to your wife earlier she said you had a four-year-old.”
“She did?”
“Yes. He sounds a lot like mine. And Jenny said she was expecting your second in a few months. Congratulations.”
In the silence of my own response I could hear my wife’s muffled voice coming through the floorboards, chiding Jacob for needing to be quiet while Mommy or Daddy was on the phone, and Jacob still pleading with her to help him.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I said eventually. “The ultrasound says this one’s going to be a girl. I hope she’s quieter than her brother.”
Pamela chuckled. “Don’t bet on it,” she said. “I’ll talk to you on Tuesday, Alan.”
“Ten o’clock,” I confirmed.
We said our goodbyes and the line clicked off, but I was still turning her last few comments over in my mind. Why, I wondered, would Jenny share such personal details with a prospective employer? Couldn’t she just take a message? How on earth did such a subject even come up? Hello, is Alan there? I don’t know, let me move my pregnant belly out of the way and see if I can find him.
Jenny and Jacob still embroiled in their discussion above me, I put the phone back on its charging pad and began walking up the stairs to find out.
+ + +
“Dragons” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. For more information, go here.
This post first appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can follow him on Twitter @ericlanke or contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.
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