Deborah Chronicles

Part 5

On September 8 & 9, I was in Michigan to interview at the University of Michigan. The following accounts are true, of course. I'm living these events just to serve my hungry public.

*Dip Moment #1*
On September 8th, I was on the way to Detroit to be one of 5 finalists to be interviewed for the Director of Foundation Relations position at the University of Michigan. (Five points to those of you who correctly identified that this is the same job title I now hold!) Because of several travel disasters this summer (I am now in receipt of a $100 voucher from USAirways after complaining in one of my more effective consumer letters. That volume -- "Deborah Koch, 45 Years of Complaints: Did you really have to use forceps to get me out?!" -- will be out in the Spring). I decide that I will not check my luggage because I don't want to risk not having my clothes for the interview. The luggage includes a small suitcase and a hanging bag with my newly-purchased silk suit. I hang the bag in the front of the plane so it won't get crunched and take my suitcase to the bin over my seat. Understand that I never carry on luggage (this is known as foreshadowing) because I hate to lug stuff and I am usually too short to reach the overhead bins.

I worry terribly that I will forget the hanging bag because it is not near my seat. Throughout the flight, I repeat to myself, "Do NOT forget the hanging bag. Do NOT forget the hanging bag." "Yes, club soda with lime, please. (Do NOT forget the hanging bag.)" "Can you pass this to the attendant, please? (Do NOT forget the hanging bag.)" "Is that Lake Erie? (Do NOT forget the hanging bag.)" [I am reminded of a story a man told me about his inability to remember whether or not he turned the iron off each morning. He would go to work and agonize throughout the day, "Did I turn the iron off?" Finally he seized upon a solution. He decided that each time he ironed he would announce *out loud*, "I am turning the iron off NOW." Then, he figured, when he got to work he would remember whether or not he heard himself say that that morning.] The plane lands, "Please put your seat backs and trays to their upright position. (Do NOT forget the hanging bag.)." We are exiting the plane. I am so proud that I remember the hanging bag. Until half way up the gang plank when I remember I also have a suitcase. Back in the overhead bin. I have to go against traffic, half explaining, "I, er, um, forgot my suitcase. Heh heh."

Yeah, I'm gonna do real well with this interview!

*Six Degrees of Separation -- Condensed* This is one of those if you saw it in a movie, you'd think it was contrived stories.

I arrive only slightly late in Detroit and am met by a limo service which takes me to my hotel in Ann Arbor. There I am met by the man who might become my boss, we climb into his car, and head out for dinner.

As the car is turning out of the hotel driveway, I spy a good looking, long-haired (of course) man about to cross the street. "Hmmm," I think, "if that's what Ann Arbor has to offer me, I'm in!!" He gets closer -- he begins to look familiar. He looks a lot like someone I've known since childhood -- the brother of my best friend in junior high school. Could that be Michael Boren?! How could it be? He lives in New Mexico! I blurt out, "I know that man!" Boss-to-Be asks me if I want to stop. I figure I'm imagining things, say no, and we go on. But throughout the evening I begin to piece information together and become convinced that it could be Michael. I knew in September that he was going to be traveling around to college campuses selling posters, and I think I recall a phone conversation in which he said he was going to be in Ann Arbor. By coffee, I am convinced and when Boss-to-Be drives me back to the hotel, he is totally invested in the story and drives me by the hotels across from mine so I can see their names.

Back in my room, I call the two hotels and ask if a Michael Boren is registered. I am told no by both places. I don't believe them. I am determined to find my friend who I have not seen in a few years. I remember that the last time I saw him and he was on a poster run, he had a rental truck of a certain size. Loving being a detective, I determine that I'll go to the parking lots of the two hotels and look for this truck and then I'll know which one he's in. I find the truck. I go inside and ask the guy at the desk again if a Michael Boren is registered. He says no. I press, describing Michael, and telling a sob story about him being a childhood friend that I haven't seen in ages. The desk guy is totally uninterested, won't even let me leave a note. Sherlock that I am, I check the hotel swimming pool and hot tub remembering that Michael likes both. Not there. Hmmm. I will him to come out of his room. Doesn't work. I go back to my hotel and check in the lounge since the other two places don't have one. Not there.

Finally, I leave a note on the truck, which you can imagine is pretty weird in tone if I have the wrong truck. "Excuse me, but if Michael Boren is in this truck..." Momentarily defeated, I go to my room and eventually go to sleep.

The next morning I decide I'm going to call the hotel again. This time I get a woman, I begin to explain, "I know you all don't have a Michael Boren registered there, but I'm looking for a childhood..." I am interupted, "We have a Michael Boren registered." I am momentarily peeved at Distinerested Guy from the night before, but recover and ask to be connected to his room. No answer. Damn! I leave a lengthy message.

Meanwhile, the night before, Michael is told by Distinerested Guy -- who just emerged from his coma -- that a childhood friend is looking for him and is over at the Sheraton. Michael is totally confused and goes over to the Sheraton lounge not certain who he is looking for. He waits to be discovered, nothing happens he leaves. Oh, and wouldn't you know that that night he had decided not to swim or soak.

The following morning, on a whim, he decides to walk into town, instead of drive, and his partner drives the truck (with the note on it). The partner finds the note, delivers it to Michael. By the time Michael finds the phone number of the Sheraton and a working phone, I have just checked out.

Meanwhile, I am going through a series of interviews (details below). At lunchtime I have just been met by one of a series of people who is to show me around and take me to lunch. He asks, "Is there anything you'd like to see?" I ask, "Is the Student Union nearby?" He points to the building next to us. "Well, I'm going to really need your indulgence on this," I offer, "but you see there's this childhood friend..." We go into the Student Union and are met by a sign that says, POSTER SALE TODAY!! We follow the arrows and I turn the corner in time to see...a man who isn't Michael. Shoot! I decide to ask the guy, just in case, "Excuse me, by any chance are you here today with Michael Boren?"

"You're the one!," he exclaims, "Michael will be right back." Let's not forget -- at that moment, I am in an interview situation! So I turn to clean cut Interview Man and he says we have a little time. At that moment Michael arrives in his long-haired glory, gives me a big hug, and lifts me off the ground. Interview Man patiently stands by while Michael and I exchange stories about missing each other by minutes and figure out how to hook up later. After a few minutes, we leave. "I understand that I have just committed interview suicide," I say to Interview Man as we walk out of the Student Union, "But friends ARE important." He gives me a mildly patronizing look and we go to lunch.

When I hook up at the end of the day to debrief with Boss-to-Be, his first question his, "So, I hear it WAS your friend you saw?!"

*The Courtship of Deborah Koch*

This one isn't about romance, gang, but it IS about a wooing. The interviews at the University of Michigan have no questions other than, do you want to come here? All the preparation I've done is wasted. No need for the accomplishments cheat sheet. No need for the stories about my clever strategies that have brought money into UMass. No need for a brilliant display of foundation knowledge. No, each person I meet is trying to convince me that it is a great place to work, that Ann Arbor is a great place to live. I am told about the fabulous benefits, the highly-regarded School of Public Policy where I can earn my doctorate, the abundance of music and recreational opportunities, and about how the top-level administration is totally supportive of the position.

I get into it.

I am waiting to hear whether or not I'll be brought back for the final finalist interviews. I have no idea whether or not I would take the job. Aside from the above, it would pay considerably more than I earn now. But the fact of the matter is, I don't really love fundraising. I decide not to decide unless I get a callback.

Meanwhile, UMass starts to get nervous that I am being recruited and considering options. My boss tells me that if I want to change the nature of my job, now is the time to do it -- that I can write my ticket.

I get into it.

[And in August, I had two other job interviews, over the phone -- for a program officer position at the Mott Foundation, and for Director of the Foundation Center Library in DC.]

*Dip Moment #2* I am driving back from the airport having returned from Detroit at midnight. I am totally spent. I notice something on my windshield, and turn my intermittent wipers on to wipe it off. Hmmph, it's still there. I turn the wipers on again. It's still there! Damn! Get off of there! Wipers again. Still there! I am irate. What IS this stuff?!! Ohhhhhhh.

Rain.