On Not Counting Your Chickens Before the Fat Lady Doesn't Sing

O.k… so the New York thing didn’t happen. So much for the mental or physical disaster I mentioned.

But the most disturbing thing about the New York thing not panning out wasn’t

“not getting the job”.

I’ve had similar turns in life and expect them again.

No, the thing that really ‘T’’s me off about the whole thing is that it was Such a Great Post in this Blog, that I Hated to not be able to follow through, if only for that sake alone. O well… I’m really not crushed. Too much going on for that. A little shocked, perhaps, but not devastated.

I can’t recall ever having gone after a position in my field that I really wanted and not getting it. I have all the required ‘stuff’: background, references, etc. I interview very well. So what the hell happened??

Let’s see… (*fade-out harp music) When last we left Me and Mr. Potential Employer – the dialogue went something like:

“...., thanks for your e-mail outlining the issues we discussed during our recent talks. I will review the letter over the weekend to avoid any misunderstandings, and get back to you on Monday, and we can finish this thing up. Have a nice weekend and we’ll talk then.”

Monday


Tuesday


Wednesday


Thursday


Friday
“Dear Mr. L, Just touching base (to use a phrase I HATE with a passion) to see if I might be able to address any questions or concerns you might have regarding our recent correspondence. Please feel free to either call or e-mail at - blah blah blah…”


Weekend


Monday


Tuesday…


It is now the end of February and I have long since stopped looking for Mr. Potential Employer’s picture on the side of the milk carton. He's gone and he ain’t comin’ back – and what’s more, I don’t care. Just not that thrilled and never really was – other than the fact that it would have been a very nice salary increase with hours which were much more conducive to a sane, healthy, rational personal life.

I have an idea and some speculation as to why, but over all I’m not sure way deep down that this may have been meant for me. Even after having returned from NY last month….there was still something in my gut that said ‘this still may not be right for you, MrM’, and not because I was scared of ‘The Job’. I know that I could have done ‘The Job’ with my eyes closed. But I think that if there was just one thing that kept a check in my heart about it all was that it would have taken me out of the one thing that I truly enjoy most about this profession: The day-to-day ops of the houses I would be managing. I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up yet. And that may have been the one thing that kept me from projecting the energy I’d need to follow through. Who can say?

I am fortunate enough in my profession to work within a network of agencies, and two incredible agents in particular whom I’ve known for years. So I don’t really sweat the search like I probably should, and it’s kind of spoiled me in a way.

Unlike most people who begin the dreaded process, when I begin looking I don’t have to check in to Monster.com or any other e-source, or mail out a bunch of resumes. I just pick up the phone and say: “I wanna throw my hat in the ring – whaddaya got goin’ on?” I have to laugh when I think about how easy it is. I think of it sort of like Hallowe’en night, standing on the front porce of the agency with my bag held high, yelling:

“Trick or Job!”

So there are currently a couple of interviews in the works pending the scheduling of travel and meeting times ( I secretly love using vacation time for this – so help me, I don’t know why) and so when the time is right I’ll fly to Chicago to meet with all three them on “one of them’s” dime.

I know it won’t happen overnight. From the time an employer shows an interest in a candidate it could be anywhere from two to four months before moving day – which should just about cast my moving van tail lights on the northern bands of the first hurricane of the season before leaving town.

What would I ultimately like to do?

My goal, and I do have one…

After struggling through the first 20 years of this adventure in private service, I think I’d just like to find the job and the salary that my education and experience and demand - a workplace where communication is a two-way street, rather than a dead-end alley. I know these are both realistic and attainable.

And then, quite simply, I’d like to funnel the outcome of both these goals in to a real estate portfolio that would usher me into what I call ‘financial independence day’. And then……I think I’d like to direct.

Taking a bite out of the Big Apple

And some things are changing…

“Mr. Miller,,, my name is Vita C, and I am personal assistant to Mr. D.L.”

“It’s nice to talk to you, Ms. C, thank you for calling.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Miller, call me Vita!”

“Certainly, thanks, and call me Allan.” (That felt strange to say!)

“Mr. L would like for me to help with travel arrangements to New York next week, does the 27th still work for you?”

I’ve been told a little bit about Vita and I can’t resist:

“Oh…” I say, fishing “ …. is that still on?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Miller… Mr. and Mrs. Chief are very much looking forward to meeting with you again.” “I’m not supposed to say this but he’s said he wishes you’d move up two weeks ago!” We laugh and I make mental notes. (I have been meeting with Mr. L for nearly two months, since he first called after reviewing my resume given to him by a mutual friend.)

There can be no auto-pilot for this trip. My radar is up and fully functional and searching the airwaves for any discrepancy, any awkward or sideways glance; anything that might tip me off to this being a bad move. In the past two months there have been none.

Fast forward: “… here are the travel times and so I’ll send you the itinerary by e-mail and you’ll be on your way.” “If there’s anything else I can do for you in the mean time please don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t, Vita, thanks for all your help.”

Now,,, getting out of this house for anything other than making music has become just about as strategic in its planning as the Israelites leaving Egypt – let alone, an exodus for a job interview. (I’m just going to assume for the sake of brevity that most people reading know the ‘house’ I’m talking about.) So, out I sneak early Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m. in order to catch a 9:00 a.m. flight.

(Incidentally, the plane flies right over my neighborhood giving me a bird's eye view of The House. As well, I am able to note the absence of my housekeeper's vehicle this morning, leaving her to wonder yet again on Monday how on EARTH I know she was late ;)



I am retrieved in ‘grand style’ by one of The Chief's drivers and carried directly downtown to meet with Mr. and Mrs. L. As I am standing outside of the vehicle in front of the high-rise building, watching the sun duck below the Manhattan skyline, I notice the chauffeur and the doorman exchanging knowing banter; an insider's shorthand of sorts. All of us in private service do it so I am not alarmed. I have no interest in what they are saying and yet I know exactly what they are saying, and have to laugh a little to myself.

While in NY one my first unofficial duties is to tour each local property, meet the staff, assess service styles and needs and to also, upon initial “look-see” in Mr. L’s vernacular, attempt to discern if there is anything we can do to bring the ‘back of the house’ up to par with regard to Service Flow; (which is another way of addressing whether or not the work environment is “set up in such a way as to make service delivery functional”) Not that there is anything wrong necessarily, but perhaps there are some things that could be done better. And so this doesn’t concern 'the people’ so much as it does the tools necessary to do their jobs.

Still standing in the street, I look down at my feet to notice my bag is now gone and for a brief second the thought runs through my mind (seriously): “Wholly Crap! I’ve been in NY for FIVE Minutes… and already I’ve been Robbed!” Now about the same time I also notice down the inside of the front hall of the building that the friendly doorman has already ported the bag down to the elevator. These guys are Good!

Mr. and Mrs. L are friendly and gracious without even a hint that they are pressed for time in having to make an evening event. But this has already been discussed and I am fully aware, and will be leaving shortly anyway to begin visiting the properties and meeting staff. I am told by Mr. and Mrs. L that I am free to use any verbiage I choose to reassure each staff member that no one’s job is in jeopardy and that I am operating in a much different capacity than the on-site people.

My tour of the properties is not really for reasons the Chiefs imagine, although it’s still an important part of the process. My true goal in these visits is to glean from staff just what the potential for overall success might be.

I’m pretty sure I ‘get it’ when it comes to reviewing a job, for the most part. I have been doing this a long time and worked with many different personalities and service styles. I also know full well most principals can act circles around ANY Oscar winning performer on their best day, and at any phase of their career. And so I’m hoping to be able to tell by interacting with the current insiders as to whether or not this thing is actually do-able.

And it is – hands down.

Having come to the realization that there is NO such thing as The Fantasy Position, I no longer kid myself on this. But if there is such a thing as a viable fantasy in this line of work it is the “Fantasy Salary” – and this one is it. I don’t mind most of the B.S. and the weird work schedule so long as the principals are reasonably easy to get along with – but at this point in the game I’d still like to be properly compensated for what I bring to the table. Bottom line is… if I basically like being around them I no longer mind the hours, as this is no longer about The Fantasy Position for me. My focus is now all about using the dollars I earn to create the fantasy investment portfolio.

And I am now satisfied that this is the one.


Out of two month’s banter and glad-handing, the talk of salary and other compensation for a position of this scope is what most people would consider unnaturally brief:

The Chief: “What’ll it take?”

Me: “It’ll take X.”

The Chief: “Done.”

And that’s it.

At this level, that’s the way it’s always been though. Two gentlemen shake hands and it’s done. (Barring mental or physical disaster, of course, but that’s a story for different time.)

“Just put it into an e-mail with some of the other things we’ve discussed and send it on to me and that’ll be fine.” “If you would though, call me tomorrow morning and just touch base and let me know what your impressions are. I really don’t think we’ll need to meet again unless you feel it’s necessary… and other than that you can be on your way.”

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Chief, it was very nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, Allan, we’re really glad to have you on board.” However, it is the tone of the exchange which conveys this to me more than the words. This is a good thing.

It’s been a tough recent three months and I am tired. I am looking forward to moving and beginning something I've been working toward for a long time. I am looking forward to plunking money down on some investment property. I am looking forward to the time when I can sleep in on Saturday morning if I so choose, or travel on weekends if I like. I am looking forward to cooking for myself again and having friends over…. But most of all I am just looking forward.

"Able was I, ere I saw Elba

These words were supposed to have been spoken by Napoleon Bonaparte just before being exiled to the island of Elba, following his abdication at Fontainebleau.

However, it's probably more likely that some clever writer crafted this gem some years afterward to humorously honor the event - as strangely enough, it reads exactly the same either forward or in reverse.

*ring …..riiiing……ri…….*

“Hello….”

“Mr. M..., this is Elba….”

“Oh hi, Elba.. how are you ??”

“I’m doing good, Mr. M, How are you?”

“O.k., thanks… And your mom?”

“She’s fine.. I can leave her by herself finally, and she can dose her own medicine now, which is good…”

You see, Elba worked for me as head housekeeper for two years and left for a time (which I’m sure she thought was temporary) to tend to her ailing mother after a stroke.

“Wow… that’s great, Elba.” “I’m glad to hear that.”

There is an uncomfortable strain now in the conversation…. I know where this is leading, and although I don’t really have the time just now to do anything other than ‘nip this’ at the outset, I have this nearly congenital need to allow her to save face if I can.

On many levels Elba is an amazing woman. At age 57, she has not only grandchildren, but great grandchildren, all of whom adore her. As well, she’s also very proud of the fact that she’s one of the few adults in her extended family to own a house. Now, with that house comes the true pride of ownership, and even a bit of well-justified arrogance (and I honestly don’t mean that in a negative way). But with that house also comes monthly payments – and you can’t make those without a j-o-b.

“So, Mr. M, how’s things around the house?”

“Good, Elba… things are moving right along.” “Mr. and Mrs. Boss have purchased land on a lake way up north somewhere and are going to build a summer escape house on it.”

“Oh…that’s nice... yeah, you really don’t want to be around here in hurricane season if you can help it”, she offers, with a weak laugh.

(Now, if I may describe our work-place setting her for a moment: I am a certified butler and private chef, and I manage an estate on the island of Palm Beach in south Florida. I have been in private service most of my adult working career and, for three of those years I served as Dean/Director of Education and Headmaster of the somewhat world -famous Starkey International Institute for Household Management in Denver, Colorado. My educational staff, which included one of 64 master sommeliers in the world as well as our chef instructor, whom was named amongst Who’s Who in American culinarians in 1992, was considered at the top of their game for their skill in service education - for not only private homes, but for luxury market hotels and resorts worldwide, as well as the personal service staff at the White House, Camp David and the Vice President’s Residence.)

“How’s the new girl working out for you…?” She asked.

Ahhh… there it is…… the line has been tossed off the back of the boat now .. I see the shiny object on the end of it ….but I have been hooked before. And the difference between the poor sucker in the water who will chomp away toward his own self-inflicted doom is that I am able to learn from my mistakes. I have seen this lure before – and this time I will not - I cannot - bite.

Elba was sent to me by “The Agency” with the promise that “…. she’s kind of small, but….she does everything well and you almost have to hit her in the head with a hammer to make her stop.” Interesting choice of words, but effective nonetheless.

She was truly a godsend in the beginning. And at four foot and seven inches tall, there really wasn’t much she couldn’t do, nor wouldn’t do, for that matter. She kept all those promises and more, and did a great job for me over time.

She tackled not only the cleaning of sixteen thousand square feet, including the pool house and gym. As well, she kept the place in perfect order, managing laundry and fine clothing care – no small task I can assure you. And it was because of the alchemy of these particular and valuable skills, to some degree, that I was able to manage my own responsibilities with greater ease. Yes,,, with Elba on the job I had nothing to fear.

But toward the end of year two, in the last six months, I began to notice some chinks in the armor. Granted, everyone has their bad days, and not everyone can, nor wants, to be ‘ON’ all the time. But this was different. It became like something from a ‘B’ horror/dark comedy movie.

She knew that my scheduling needs at the residence were tight. She knew that my day to day plans were literally a house of cards and depended greatly on everyone doing their part. And while I can certainly make allowances for a sick day here and there – I’m just not staffed for the type of unusual occurrences that began to keep Elba from her duties.

It might have been a third cousin who’d had an auto accident…. Or a granddaughter who was having trouble with home work (in the middle of the school and work day!?) It might have been because the moon was blue or it might have just been because it was another day that ended in the letter “Y”, that kept her from coming in. It really might have been any number of truly and brilliantly worded excuses, but the bottom line was that I really needed to have someone in the shoes she filled, with very little room for variance, and the poor dear seemed to have just given up. And on top of everything else, was getting just a bit pissy, and moody to boot!

I began having to make one excuse after another for her to the employers: “Well, ma’am.. it’s probably just for today, she thinks, and then she’ll be back in tomorrow”. What had once been a beautiful relationship and a true symbiotic, work-related service team was now keeping me in the react mode most of the time. And in my profession I can only react to ONE party – and that is the Boss.

The last straw… (and believe me, I know what it’s like to feel so burdened down at, or by, your job, you just don’t care about doing the right thing any more. Sometimes it just gets so bad that the number one goal upon entering the work place is no longer about doing your job well but simply surviving just one more day!) …was my having to sacrifice vacation plans for this utter folly and nonsense.

Elba knew how important this trip was to me and just decided to pull a full-on power play and it caused me to have to sacrifice – in a major way. (to begin to tell you how difficult it is to schedule time away from my work is almost an impossibility, by the way. Suffice it to say that it’s tantamount to the Israelites packing and leaving Egypt, and that should give you just some idea)

But how did it come to this?? I began to wonder? How did I get from There ….to Here?? No matter,,, I knew what had to be done. But the planets and the universe must have mercifully aligned to spare me THE Talk: Her mother had become gravely ill and so Elba had to take some down time to help care for her.

The Agency sent a replacement, who has caught on brilliantly and is still doing a wonderful job, and that was that …. I really didn’t expect to hear her on the other end of the phone hinting about reclaiming the position she seemingly at one time couldn’t wait to vacate.

After having broken the ice, the two of us talked about job possibilities on the island and perhaps using the same agency that represented her to us. But she understood before the chat’s end that there just wasn’t a spot for her here and she’d resigned herself to that.

I was able to offer this solace however, that I would be happy to write a glowing letter of reference for her, which in this profession is ‘gold’. (since employers in our world typically do not have Human Resources offices in their own homes, and sometimes will move or pass away, making it impossible to retrieve a reference from them.)

I had wonderful ideas for a stellar work on letterhead, when a very dear friend of mine offered this perspective…:

“Knowing everything that you know about her work and attendance record overall, do you really want to represent her on paper – and over YOUR signature??” She wisely pointed out that because my name does carry some weight in my profession that it might not be worth the risk to align myself with that kind of endorsement. “I know what you’re trying to do”, she said, “and can certainly appreciate that, but there are some issues bigger than just being ‘nice’ here that you might want to consider.”

After thinking it over …and wondering … so… do I allow her to save face and go the whole nine yards – and just be nice?? ……Do I just tell ‘everything’? …. Do I warn all the others about what I know – all the lack of caring and conscientiousness on her part?? What to do, what to do??

In the end .. it doesn’t really matter what I might have to say since the new bosses are typically so desperate and eager to get a ‘New Elba’ in to take the place of the ‘Old Elba’, they’ll just hire away and hope for the best.

So did the only thing I could do and still live with myself. (My dear friend who knows me better than I know myself knew I would...) I made the letter short, sweet, professional and to the point without any embellishments. Sparing the potential new employers any of the details of my trip to the Island of Elba – (certainly don’t want to be branded as bitter or negative – ha!)

I’ll make nice… spare them all, the warnings,,,, the dark side,,, and just be pleasant…they’ll learn soon enough…