Yesterday I tried to do what I do best…put myself out there, in the faces of prospective employers. It’s harder to say no to the face.
I stopped by the offices of Cafe Babel, a Europe wide online magazine. I interrupted a meeting by showing up lost with no appointment. However, one of the meetees directed me to an office where I had a nice, rather long chat with a stagiare. She gave me some insight into the workings, and said she would pass my info along to the big guys. An email I received later that aft confirmed that’s what happened.

Flushed by this experience of being on the inside of an office I set my sights on another target: The pretentiously ambivalently named “The Centre.” It bills itself as a think-tank that thinks about all kinds of progressive issues. I rolled up on my bike at their office and buzzed.

“Bonjour,” came a female voice through the intercom.

“Bonjour,” I replied, “Uh hello, I’d like to, uh come in?” I said/asked.

“Do you have an appointment?” she responded.

“No, I don’t” I said politely, “I’d like to find out about some of your, uh events.” I didn’t want to tip my “hire me” cards too soon.

“Where are you from?” She demanded, growing increasingly suspicious.

“Canada!” I declared, declining her invitation to affiliate myself with an organization smaller than a nation.

“Uh, what do you want?” She tried to trip me up in a lie, police interrogation style.

I of course, had long since realized this was going horribly, horribly wrong.

“Look, if you’re so deeply suspicous of my intentions, I’ll just go” I said firmly, trying to extricate myself from this awkward encounter with a brass speaker.

And go I did. I still managed to salvage a little positivity from the meeting that morning. But I definitely overestimated the ability of my charm to open doors for me.