Strides - Big Ones!

The last time I contributed to this blog the month was January, my work morale had hit an all-time low, and I was focused on taking the GRE with the intention of being accepted into a graduate school in Denver. Things have changed, dramatically, but for the better nonetheless.

Upon researching graduate school and the inherent financial situation that is presented I realized that I need to be a resident of Colorado for at least one year before I can get in-state tuition (and save roughtly 60% on the cost of grad school for the first year). So my decision to delay grad school for one year was a no-brainer. We like change, but we like our changes to be calculated. Thus, my focus and efforts had shifted from acing the GRE to finding stable employment in Denver. 

Rachael detailed our early March visit to Denver, but one thing she did not mention were the job interviews I had lined up for the Monday following our apartment search. I was scheduled for two interviews: one with PMC Group, a company based in Copenhagen, Denmark, for a hydraulics engineer role. The second interview was for a project manager position at Cooper Industries. PMC's facility in Golden, Colorado is their only American location and is very small compared to what I'm used to. No more than 20 employees total, a shop with 20,000 square feet of empty floor space, and an office with desks, private offices and meeting rooms but not nearly enough people to fill them all up. A nice change, I thought. Cooper Industries, located in Aurora, Colorado, reminded me much more of my Parker-Hannifin. A 60,000 square foot plant, an enormous cubicle-farm and people running around all over the place like chickens sans heads (avec too much coffee). A nice, clean and bright facility; these were my first impressions of the place, but soon the similarities to my current plant and office became discerning. 

The PMC interview came first that morning. I did my best J-Timble impression and put on my suit and tie, trying to look as professional as possible while still maintaining a somewhat questionable mustache (I couldn't  bring myself to shave it off). Upon entering their building I was greeted by a sign-in sheet and an empty receptionist's desk. Editors Note to Rachael: they might be hiring. I signed in and rang the visitor-alert bell that was rigged to the vacant reception desk. Shortly thereafter I was greeted by a vibrant Danish fellow named Mikkel. Mikkel quickly offered water, coffee, and a place for Rachael to sit instead of waiting in the car. I walked with Mikkel though a small hallway that opened up into the aforementioned office. Newly built, fresh furnishings, lots of natural light and open space. I like it. Mikkel seats me in a window-walled conference room as he walks away to fetch a co-worker. He returns with a surly but jolly man named Tim. Tim is an American operations manager. My interview commences. 

After a bout of typical interview questions, "How do you respond to adversity? How do you handle multi-tasking? What's your favorite/least-favorite part of your current job?" Mikkel and Tim get onto the technical stuff. The stuff I had been preparing for. They ask about my experience conducting projects. I give them specific examples of my leadership roles. They ask my about my hydraulic component knowledge. I tell them the details about the valves I've been working on over the past 4 years. They ask me about my proficiency in Inventor. I hand them each a copy of work instructions that I've modeled and assembled myself using Inventor. They ask me if I like to travel. I say "yes." They show me a hydraulic schematic of a system they're preparing to build. I point out what I recognize and what I don't recognize. For a second I thought this part would get me in trouble; I am a bit rusty and inexperienced at interpreting hydraulic schematics. But alas, they assure me they are just looking for someone who knows "when valves will open and close." Sounds good to me. And all the while they allow me to interject, to ask questions when they pop up in my head. They give me time to write notes and ask for more details. I like these guys. Two hours of this type of back and forth Q & A fly by. It's time to get moving so I can make my next interview. I shake hands with the gents, smile frequently, maintain eye contact and go on my merry way. I feel good. 

After a drive past downtown Denver to the other side of town and some initial confusion over the exact location of Cooper Industries, Rachael and I arrive ahead of schedule in Aurora, Colorado. After a short wait in the car, I head in. I am greeted by a receptionist and the typical sign-in sheet. But this time, I am asked to fill out several pages of paperwork. At this point I am more than thankful I went in fifteen minutes early. Otherwise this paperwork would have thrown the interview schedule way off. Literally seconds after I finish filling out the last bits of required information, I am approached by a young man named Jeremy and a middle aged woman named Lisa. We exchange handshakes and formalities, and the pair lead me upstairs to a conference room. This time, however, I'm in a conference room that I consider more of a cell. It seems that every plant or office has a couple of these. "Conference rooms" they call them, but anything with a lockable door and no windows is considered a "cell" in my book. Call me crazy, but I operate at a slightly more relaxed level when I can at least see outside. 

The interview begins with me telling Jeremy and Lisa about my experience at Parker, what I've been doing here for the last 5 years, and my likes and dislikes concerning my work. They ask me how my experience here will help me succeed at Cooper in the project manager role. The questions get more intense. "Tell us specifically about a time when you've had too much to do in a day and your supervisor cannot prioritize your work for you. Tell us specifically about a conflict you've had with a coworker while working on a project together. Tell us how you handle customer relations when their product is faulty." I describe to them the most detailed events that I can recall. For some reason, this interview is not flowing like the last one. They begin to tell me more about the specifics of the job. It sounds like a customer service role. I've got friends in customer service at Parker. They are not happy people. And if they appear happy, it's because they're drunk. I'm not getting a good vibe from my temporary cell-mates, and Lisa begins to wield a skeptical scowl when I tell them that I prefer structure - or to create structure when none exists - within the workplace. The interview ends in a very typical manner: by them asking me if I have any more questions for them about the position or the company. Only this time, I do not have any questions. Not because they allowed me to ask questions during the entire interview, but because I know I do not want this job. I want to work for PMC and the stilfuld Danish guys.

With my brain cramped, personality exhausted of bright smiles, and my neck gasping for some air I loosen my tie and head back out to the car. I'm ready for a drink. The whole way to the airport and the entire flight home I can only talk to Rachael about how the interviews went, about how badly I want the job at PMC and to travel to Denmark with them and be their go-to hydraulics guy. As we get home I finally unwind. I begin to realize that these things take time and that it might be days or weeks before I find out whether or not either of these companies want me to work for them. I try my best to put it out of my mind, but it feels impossible. I am edgy, tense, and anxious. But then one evening, after about a week, the phone rings. It's a Denver number I don't recognize...