westech

Westech, for those of you who don't know, is a massive job fair sponsored by brassring.com. Down in Silicon Valley, it's held in the Santa Clara Convention Center, and offers a selection of over 800 employers. Over 20,000 job-seeking participants show up, I was told. It was a ravenous pool of sharks -- good gods, how huge a pool! -- and most of the participants who wandered glazed-eyed and booty-laden through the aisles displayed obvious signs of sensory overload.

The manager of our documentation team and I popped up only a few minutes late, and found our booth in a distant, remote, less-traveled portion of the floor. I was looking decent, which meant I'd foolishly decided to wear a heavy chenille sweater in response to the weather up in San Francisco and Redwood City. As it turned out, the weather in Santa Clara was perversely nice and warm, and by the time we'd marched through the ranks of booths and located our homestead, I was flushed and frustrated.

Doc Man, -- oh, hurrah! Another new nickname! that works for him -- was wearing a turtleneck and a company t-shirt, and he still managed to look cheerfully comfortable. I pondered harboring deep hatred for him, but discarded it because he's just too easy to like, and it was too much trouble, anyway.

It was a frenzy. Our company's name is well-known and stable, inasmuch as anything is, these days. We handed out toys like all the other vendors did: keychains and pens, the former of which I required assistance in figuring out. This was occasion for much mirth among passers-by. Some of the job-seekers had gotten bags to keep their goodies in. I saw one man marionette walking a flourescent green alien doll around the Novell booth.

I schmoozed and sparkled and fizzed at people; I made determined eye-contact, chatted up some folks, accepted a million and one resumes, did a surprising amount of career counseling, and found a few possible candidates for my group.

"What's it like working there?" one asked. I told him the rosy picture, then plugged in a few of the negatives, and he gave me his resume anyway. Sys Admin. Awesome. We need those.

"What's going on with your stock?" asked another. I laughed with him, made rueful, wildly speculative comments about butterfly wings in Shanghai and the price of wheat, and got his resume. Java programmer. Cool.

"What does your company do, exactly?" asked yet another. I gave him the overview of the company, narrowed it down to what my group specifically was looking for, and helped him identify what he might be best suited for in our ranks and what department to apply to.

I was working that crowd. I was jamming. I was on a roll. I was there, yo, and moths danced, burning, in my light. I even got compliments from the people I helped.

"You've got a real talent for this," one marketing executive said admiringly, after I looked over his resume.

"Are you an HR person?" another asked. I'm taking that as a compliment, because I know she meant it as one.

"Oh my God. Do all engineers have to be like you?" another college grad asked, stricken. He was shy and awkward. That one, I have to admit, didn't spring to the ear as a compliment, though he assured me hastily that it actually was, "--because we don't learn people skills in college."

When did I turn into the great people person? When did everybody start assuming I'm an extrovert? And all that smiling I did that day, it was all sincere. I enjoyed it. I had fun. Was I born this way? Was Chrissy from Love Boat always lurking somewhere in the dark shadows of my personality?

Eventually I started to lose steam, of course. My mind started to wander; we were there three hours and then some, and I spoke to at least a hundred fifty people. Near the end, I was speaking to one young woman who was interested in Network Engineering.

"...because this company is a great place for hardware, hands-on experience," I told her.

I meant to tell her.

What actually came out: "...because this company is a great place for a hard-on."

Her eyes got a little rounder, but she remained silent. Perhaps she was worried that this was some tech term that she hadn't learned in college.

It took me a few moments, too.

I covered my face with my hands and thought about laughing.

"Boy," said an older man, standing nearby and listening. "You've sold me."

other stuff...

Birthday present! Hurray! The little Filipino man who runs our mail service came drifting by my cubicle, looking worried. He stopped and stared at me for a solid minute before disappearing; then he reappeared five minutes later, still carrying his little package. He stared at me, then disappeared again. And then, thirty minutes later, reappeared.

"Is this you?" he finally asked, and thrust his delivery at me.

It was. Relieved, he trotted off, no doubt to make other speedy deliveries. (He's a cool guy, our mailman.) Neither rain nor snow, nor complete ignorance...

It was a book of Sexy Haikus from Ki. Thank you, Ki! The card adorns my wall, and the book adorns my bookshelf, next to the ... hm. Two boxes of cereal that are left from the original four. I'm looooooved. Posted by yhirata at October 11, 2000 09:55 PM