Activate Tractor Beam...

So, one day I'm minding my own business and... what?

Huh? Oh. Yeah.

The Ghosts of Job Searches past have decreed that I write about yet another interview from heck. There. OK? Can I get on with it now? Thanks.

So, one day I'm minding my own business when the phone rings. It's from a company we'll call "ContractCo." They're a contractor who handles incoming parts quality for a tractor manufacturer that we'll call "Centipede Tractors" just so I don't get flack from the "Caterpillar" people!

Now, I'd been out to "Centipede" a while back to interview with a different contractor for a different contract position, so I had been there before. I also knew that this tractor company tends to contract out nearly every possible phase of their operation, so there seems to be a welter of different companies suckling off their corporate teat. That's really neither here nor there for the purposes of this tale, though.

I set up an interview with the ContractCo Quality guy. He gave me directions to the building where we were to meet that ended with, "we're right on the corner of Route 24 and Industrial Drive. Just park in the visitor section and tell the receptionist you want to see me, 'John Doe.'"

Comes the big day, I don my suit and tie and hit the road. Yeah, I had been out to this plant before, but I forgot what an inconvenient drive it was. Mile after mile on a Route 24 that went though small town after small town. I pulled into the specified parking lot about two minutes after the agreed-upon appointment time.

"No biggie, " I thought as I headed toward the reception area.

"Hello, " Itold the receptionist. "My name is Craig Davison; I have an appointment to see John Doe of ContractCo."

"Oh," she replied. "You're at the wrong building. This is just a warehouse"

"I am?" I asked. "He was pretty specific that I meet him at the corner of Route 24 and Industrial Drive."

"No, no, no. You need to turn right out of the parking lot and drive about two miles to the end of the road. Take another right onto Butternut and then a quick left on Malarky Drive." she instructed. "It's the big building at the end of the road."

Now, I'm starting to get worried. It is now five minutes past my arranged interview time and I'm not even at the right building? Shaking my head, I high-tailed it back to my car and started navigating the maze through the Industrial Park.

At about ten past the hour I had located the "main building" and was breathing heavily as I approached the reception desk.

"Hello," I panted. "I'm Craig Davison and I have an appointment with John Doe of ContractCo."

The receptionist buzzed an intercom, relayed the message and then indicated that I should have a seat. Gladly, sister! I need to catch my breath.

After about another ten minutes or so a fellow came out to see the receptionist. She pointed in my direction and he approached me with his hand extended.

"Craig Davison?" he asked in an East Indian accent.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Doe," I responded.

"Oh, no," he replied. "I'm not John Doe. He is back at building seventeen. What you need to do is turn left out the parking lot, take the street all the way to the end, turn left and then turn left again, just before you get to Route 24."

Exasperated, I fretted, "I am now a full half-hour late for my interview! What are the chances I'll make a good impression now?"

I followed the latest set of direction and I ended up right back where I started from!

Hmmmm. The receptionist already shooed me away once. What to do? What to do?

Oh, yeah! I have our crappy little TracPhone in the car! I'll call John Doe's cell phone number and explain what's been happening.

"Hello," said the voice on the phone. "This is John Doe."

"Hello, John," I blathered. "This is Craig Davison, the fellow you were going to interview today."

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "You went to the wrong building!"

"Well, here's the problem. I went to the building you directed me to about forty minutes ago. The receptionist had me drive over the the main building and another fellow had me drive right back to where I started from. All I want to know is, am I where I'm supposed to be?"

Chuckling, John asked, "Well, where are you now?"

"I'm in the parking lot at the corner of Route 24 and Industrial Drive."

"I don't see you," replied John.

I looked up and saw a man at the far end of the parking lot with a cell phone.

"Do you see a guy frantically waving his arms?" I asked. "That's me!"

He came over, we shook hands and went back into the reception area. The receptionist had been made aware of her mistake and just kept repeating "Oh, I'm so sorry!" over and over.

Yeah, I didn't get the gig...