another day, another interview

Yes, am I not the interview queen?

Spent almost three hours at a company in lavish offices on a high floor of a ritzy building in beautiful downtown Tel Aviv this noontime. Impressive view of sea and city all around. Startup makes good -- big time (though still private). And how did they do it? By appealing to lovers of online b*tting, c*sino g*mbling, and other g*mes. And since what they are ALL about is se*rch *ngine opt*miz*tion for said g*mblers, I'm doing my best with liberal asterisk sprinkling to avoid having them find ME, since I told them I have a blog and being very clever geeks they might just try to google me with some choice terms. I would if I were them.

(Doesn't everybody google people they've just met? I once googled a guy I'd just had a blind date with and was shocked to find a newspaper story about him which also talked about the accidental drowning of his youngest [of 4] children. Which he hadn't mentioned, perhaps understandably. But it sure colored my view of him.)

The prospective manager for this job grilled me on my attitude to advertising, spam, and popup boxes and how I would feel writing copy for such media. Naturally, I said I have no problem whatsoever spending my day spewing crap for crappy purposes.

I am, after all, the Interview Queen. And you don't get to this exalted position without circling Yes to all the following questions, as I did today (after resisting the rebellious urge to circle nothing):

• Are you willing to work overtime hours?
• Are you willing to work weekends?
• Are you willing to do shift work?
• Are you willing to travel out of the country?

The question he neglected to ask me in his in-depth search for reservations about me was how I would feel about the gruelling commute from my suburb to central Tel Aviv through monstrous traffic every morning and evening. (Even returning home at 2pm, traffic was at a snail's pace for 30 min. of the 45 min. trip. I shudder at the thought of it at 6pm -- in the dark.)

Good thing he didn't. I might have blown my cover.