- A gathering held at a specified time and place for the buying and selling of goods; a market.
- An exhibition, as of farm products or manufactured goods, usually accompanied by various competitions and entertainments: a state fair.
- An exhibition intended to inform people about a product or business opportunity: a computer fair; a job fair.
- An event, usually for the benefit of a charity or public institution, including entertainment and the sale of goods; a bazaar: a church fair.
All of the above! A meat market that looks like an exhibition at a state or county fair that is nothing less than bizarre!
NOVA handles service calls in the credit card field. I won’t know more than that until after training but I might have to shoot you after I tell you. They put up a banner on the building that could be read from the highway, put an ad in the paper and offered current employees money if a friend was hired. The doors were open from 4pm to 8pm Tuesday. When I arrived at 4:30 there were at least 40 people in the lobby waiting for someone to take 10 at a time to the cafeteria to fill out an application and wait to be called for testing. They reassessed the situation and brought tables, chairs, pens, and applications to the lobby. By the time I filled out another application since they don’t pull even recent apps from the files, and was taken to the cafeteria, there were approximately 225 seemingly motionless, unsmiling people already there. More about that later.
Like I said Monday, the Buick was making a funny rattle noise and Honey determined he would use it for work so he could monitor the noise in transit and network with co-workers (What do you think Boyd, Bill, Larry?) and call around for estimates. The Chevy was by default the better, more reliable vehicle for a woman who listened carefully in Driver’s Ed, studied with Dad who knew how to disassemble and reassemble cars, and has a general knowledge of basic car mechanics e.g. the dealy-bob is connected to the thingy-dingy, etc. I put the little pointy thing on D for forward and R for backward. Once when all the lights came on in the Oldsmobile, I couldn’t figure out why because I did indeed have enough gas. It rolled to a grinding halt and proceeded to smoke profusely. I also know the Chevy leaks, not burns, but leaks oil. However, if one continues to outrun the leak, one doesn’t have to smell it. As long as Stan continues to forget to actually SHOW me how to replenish the oil, he has to make sure there’s enough before it’s my turn to drive it.
Oil was not the problem Tuesday.
The drive to the interview with the company I couldn’t remember giving a resume to was about 45 minutes away so I gave myself an hour to get there allowing for “lost time.” While crawling through the UT campus the air conditioning started blowing hot air, the temp light came on and something was rattling loudly. I’m in the left lane amid heavy slow traffic packed bumper to bumper, and I had no idea how far was the next opportunity to pull off. As I inched along, the light went out, the rattle stopped, the air blew cool, and I kept going. By the time I sat through 3 interminable red light cycles at my turn, the on/off cycle had repeated twice. Who ARE all these people and JUST WHERE are they going and WHY NOW?!?
I did get lost. By the time I made a few wrong turns and consulted a person from another planet who had never seen Earth prior to my inquiry, I found the address and literally rolled into a parking place without the benefit of power steering. I don’t get it, I’ve got lots of gasoline.
The position was for a supervisor (I’ve never done that in the workplace, but I have raised two children and understand conflict resolution. Not all conflicts were resolved, but I understand the concept). The company is a collection agency for medical facilities. Well. We’ll see. Now how do I get myself 20 miles through traffic to the job fair at NOVA?
The car started. Having cooled down somewhat it took only 5 blocks for the temp light to flip on. And of course I was at a red light behind a red pickup with large tires and a substance that resembled smoke or steam was swirling from the Chevy’s hood. As God would have it there was a transmission place straight across the street and an employee who directed me one more block to a service station. Imagine that — a gas station with a repair garage, in the year 2006, not a convenience store, and only one more block away cancelling the need for standing in the hot sun waiting for a tow truck. Although it is immensely difficult to maneuver a car without power steering, I made it. So I sat in the un-airconditioned station in front of a huge fan threatening my already challenged hairdo.
Two hours, one plate of gut-bomb fried food from Food City’s deli, one water pump and one serpentine belt later, I was on my way to NOVA enjoying the air conditioning and hoping the hair spray was holding.
I made it from the lobby to the cafeteria at 5:30. (Where’s the ladies room? If they call your name while you’re there your folder goes on the bottom of the stack.) Now I get to look around the room and discern from the various facial expressions who was holding it. (There’s coffee, water, and a coke machine over there.) Decisions, decisions.
My name was called for testing at 6:30 and I was sent back to the holding tank at 7:30. The interview was 8:15. I think the HR team wasn’t expecting this many full-bladdered people. The interviewer glanced at my application, decided the answers to his canned questions were already there, sent me back to holding for some more coffee to wait for the person who would offer a position and shift choice. Precisely at 8:45 I left a voice mail for Stan that I would be home in time for Letterman. At 9:00 the first group of 10 was called back to the testing room to be told we all were new hires and someone would call tomorrow to discuss training dates and shifts. Where’s the ladies room?
Tune in again for Part Two. We will discuss the options and how they do and don’t fit with our trip to MN to see the family and meet the newby, O.R. Brock.