“Hiring panel” is a funny term. I think if I wanted to describe three people sabotaging one another for the good of the company, I might have chosen something else.
“I’m telling you right now, she’s the pick,” I tell Rick and Jen. Rick is the “CEO”, a position that normally suggests people have expressed enough confidence in him to vote him into a position of leadership. Really, he’s self-appointed, and got to where he is based on his philosophy of “speak offensively and carry a big stick. I’ve worked for a few of these start-ups. That’s typically how it goes.
“She’s a college dropout,” Jen says to me. If you were ask Jen what she does, she’d say she the HR rep for the company. But if you grabbed her by the hair and pulled upwards, you’d realize that she was little more than a puppet Rick had cobbled together from his old socks and things he’d found in his pocket over the years. Jen had a degree in design. She was hired as a designer. But due to a series of mix-ups and politics, somehow she was placed in the Human Resources position, in charge of hirings, firings, and disseminating Rick’s drunken mandates and smoothing over his toxic masculinity.
“We need someone with a college degree,” Jen says again, realizing my stupefied stare wasn’t changing.
“But we’re going to train her in everything she needs to know,” I said. “It’s one of our company’s selling points. We train all personnel so the marketing firm has a unified voice and style.”
“Come on,” Rick said, “just call the guy and tell him he’s got the position. I want someone to start Monday.”
“This person is going to be answering directly to me,” I reminded them. “I’m the Creative Director. I’m telling you this person has the aptitude to learn what they need, and they gelled so well with the other managers in her second interview. The whole team is eager to work with her.”
“I know you’re a creative,” Rick said. “I know professionalism isn’t something you understand. But we can’t hire people who didn’t finish college. It’s a bad look.”
“The position pays forty-five grand a year. I think requiring people have a college loan before we pay—”
“You agreed to the salary before we posted the position,” Rick said.
“I agreed we needed to hire someone and you set the salary.”
“And now we need someone to start Monday,” Rick said.
“And Sophia can do that,” I responded.
“Well, maybe she can go back to the Art Institute and get her degree by then,” Jen laughed.
“They went out of business, Jen. You know that. It’s where you went to school,” I said. “And Rick, remind me… what’s your B.A. in? Or is it a B.S.? Just remind me… where did you graduate?”
Rick stares at me through the screen. I half-expect him to hangout, but it’s not nearly as dramatic over Zoom. But back in the office, Rick would have gotten out of his chair and slammed his office door. He wanted to make you feel scared and isolated. After all, those were the tools he’d used to get to be “CEO”, not any college-degree.
“I’m telling you this guy graduated, but he has a business degree.”
“We’re running a business,” Jen said.
“But we’re hiring a designer,” I said.
“This person is going to be answering directly to me,” I reminded them. “I’m the Creative Director. I’m telling you this person has the aptitude to learn what they need, and they gelled so well with the other managers in her second interview. The whole team is eager to work with her.”
“I know you’re a creative,” Rick said. “I know professionalism isn’t something you understand. But we can’t hire people who didn’t finish college. It’s a bad look.”
“The position pays forty-five grand a year. I think requiring people have a college loan before we pay—”
“You agreed to the salary before we posted the position,” Rick said.
“I agreed we needed to hire someone and you set the salary.”
“And now we need someone to start Monday,” Rick said.
“And Sophia can do that,” I responded.
“Well, maybe she can go back to the Art Institute and get her degree by then,” Jen laughed.
“They went out of business, Jen. You know that. It’s where you went to school,” I said. “And Rick, remind me… what’s your B.A. in? Or is it a B.S.? Just remind me… where did you graduate?”
Rick stares at me through the screen. I half-expect him to hangout, but it’s not nearly as dramatic over Zoom. But back in the office, Rick would have gotten out of his chair and slammed his office door. He wanted to make you feel scared and isolated. After all, those were the tools he’d used to get to be “CEO”, not any college-degree.
“I’m telling you this guy graduated, but he has a business degree.”
“We’re running a business,” Jen said.
“But we’re hiring a designer,” I said.
“No, Mike,” Rick said, muting me. “I’m hiring a designer. Jen, give this guy a call, tell him he needs to be in the office by 8AM Monday.”
“Why is he in the office?” But I’d forgotten I was muted. In a moment, Rick was gone, leaving only my video feed and Jen’s. I made eye contact with her for a moment, and I considered filling that moment with every way in which she was a failure, every way in which she was simply tolerated, every time it was her deference to Rick that put her where she was instead of her qualifications. But before I could steel my heart against my own cruelty, she was gone too.
“What makes a degree so important?” I asked, but I was alone now, staring at my own video feed reflecting my furrowed brow and pinched lips back to me. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I still owed on my college loan.
