The House of Broken Toys
This, according to Bob Woodward (I am obligated to add here that you must read "Plan of Attack" if you have any lingering doubts about the insanity of the Iraq war "planning," as well as the Bushies' unmitigated Iraq mania far before 9/11) was the unofficial CIA nickname for the Iraqi Operations Group. But it also works pretty well for any kind of sprawling, disorganized office full of newbies, like today's interview.
I should have known what I was getting into. The coordinator actually admitted after I called that she had invited more people to interview than they had time slots to interview them. After many repeated followups (the last one being the actual day of the interview), she was able to reschedule me. I arrived to find that there were actually two parallel interview lists that had been made by different people, so they had to squeeze me in after some waiting.
In the meantime, I learned that the person currently holding the job I was after (the same person responsible for the scheduling, but I can't hold that against her now) had accepted an offer from a firm two days after starting as the program director, and that the board was now completely set against hiring any more lawyers for the position since the turnover has been so high.
"Good to know," I said.
She also informed me that the position was entirely administrative (I had gathered this from the description, but it still had "Director" in the job title, so that didn't bother me), that it was highly ambiguous, that she had never really received any training or guidance, that they needed a much larger staff (or at least a much smaller set of responsibilities), and that the assistant director pretty much ran the place.
"Good to know," I said.
Having been talked out of the job, I was finally called in for the formal interview... where a couple of very friendly board members did their best to talk me out of the job. They told me that I was far overqualified, that it was basically a dead-end administrative position with no potential for legal work, that I wouldn't meet anyone who could help me get a better job, that my resume qualified me for jobs paying twice as much, that I'd be better off being a mid-level administrator at Ropes & Gray, and that had they actually read my resume beforehand they never would have wasted my time.
"Well, thank you for your candor," I said.
Better to leave feeling overqualified than the other thing, I guess. Still something a little off about the whole experience, though.
I should have known what I was getting into. The coordinator actually admitted after I called that she had invited more people to interview than they had time slots to interview them. After many repeated followups (the last one being the actual day of the interview), she was able to reschedule me. I arrived to find that there were actually two parallel interview lists that had been made by different people, so they had to squeeze me in after some waiting.
In the meantime, I learned that the person currently holding the job I was after (the same person responsible for the scheduling, but I can't hold that against her now) had accepted an offer from a firm two days after starting as the program director, and that the board was now completely set against hiring any more lawyers for the position since the turnover has been so high.
"Good to know," I said.
She also informed me that the position was entirely administrative (I had gathered this from the description, but it still had "Director" in the job title, so that didn't bother me), that it was highly ambiguous, that she had never really received any training or guidance, that they needed a much larger staff (or at least a much smaller set of responsibilities), and that the assistant director pretty much ran the place.
"Good to know," I said.
Having been talked out of the job, I was finally called in for the formal interview... where a couple of very friendly board members did their best to talk me out of the job. They told me that I was far overqualified, that it was basically a dead-end administrative position with no potential for legal work, that I wouldn't meet anyone who could help me get a better job, that my resume qualified me for jobs paying twice as much, that I'd be better off being a mid-level administrator at Ropes & Gray, and that had they actually read my resume beforehand they never would have wasted my time.
"Well, thank you for your candor," I said.
Better to leave feeling overqualified than the other thing, I guess. Still something a little off about the whole experience, though.
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