Man Enough for The Women’s Conference
By Sean C. Molloy
“We need a man in this office. If we get one more dose of estrogen in here, I‘m gonna lose my mind.”
Those words – from the well-seasoned professional who runs the influential Women’s Conference -- were music to my ears. She was looking to hire a man at the Conference headquarters. And that was my “in” to snag an interview for a job.
She wasn’t looking to procure a cure-all “Mary Poppins” or Man Friday for an executive’s office. These down-to-earth women just needed an administrative assistant -- someone to change the water cooler in the office or wrap the occasional gift basket, fabulously.
Nervously I prepared for my interview, out of my carpetbag of tricks, I pulled the crispest pink Brooks Brothers shirt (thanks Dad!), the most ill-fitting dark denim jeans I could squeeze into, and asked my numerous hair stylist friends for suggestions on my current coif. (If I could have afforded it, there would have been teeth bleaching, tanning and even liposuction.)
Armed with my resume of network television assistant endeavors and my snappy personality, I ventured into waters untested by such a bird of so many varied feathers as I thought I was. I hadn’t a clue that the job that I needed and wanted, but was never on my “vision board,” would change my life…and add a few more colors to my
“We need a man in this office. If we get one more dose of estrogen in here, I‘m gonna lose my mind.”
Those words – from the well-seasoned professional who runs the influential Women’s Conference -- were music to my ears. She was looking to hire a man at the Conference headquarters. And that was my “in” to snag an interview for a job.
She wasn’t looking to procure a cure-all “Mary Poppins” or Man Friday for an executive’s office. These down-to-earth women just needed an administrative assistant -- someone to change the water cooler in the office or wrap the occasional gift basket, fabulously.
Nervously I prepared for my interview, out of my carpetbag of tricks, I pulled the crispest pink Brooks Brothers shirt (thanks Dad!), the most ill-fitting dark denim jeans I could squeeze into, and asked my numerous hair stylist friends for suggestions on my current coif. (If I could have afforded it, there would have been teeth bleaching, tanning and even liposuction.)
Armed with my resume of network television assistant endeavors and my snappy personality, I ventured into waters untested by such a bird of so many varied feathers as I thought I was. I hadn’t a clue that the job that I needed and wanted, but was never on my “vision board,” would change my life…and add a few more colors to my