It’s been about 8 years since I have had go on a formal job hunt. By formal I mean having to involve a recruitment agency. So here I am – back at a recruiting agency – performing the same dance to a different tune.

I’m waiting in a conference room that smells like the corner of career aspiration and stale office carpet. The overly heavy and overly bitter receptionist has a voice that is piercing through the makeshift conference room with walls that only go up about 7 feet. Like an annoying hiccup, she keeps repeating “Good morning, Hudson. Your name? Hold please.” Over and over again. She is an extra large version of what the rest of the world has automated already.

(If you’re not getting the visual, you can use the famous Lily Tomlin operator bit – it will suffice.)

After the “hold please” she parks the calls on various lines. After she parks the calls, she does the page. “Tom Brady parked on 22 for Becca. 22 for Becca.” And the pattern continues. “Alan Gold parked on 18 for Tracey. 18 for Tracey.”

She hates wrong numbers, this receptionist/operator/non-welcoming person behind the leased office furniture desk. There have been two wrong numbers so far. She instantly clicks into the annoyed, patronizing tone. “What? No- this is a recruitment agency!” The ‘Duh – idiot’ being implied in the statement.

She is eating extra crunchy chips from an extra noisy bag. I hear the brassy rumbling of the bag as she reaches further and further into the crunchy satisfaction. She chomps her chips like she speaks – aggravated and ready to devour them.

I don’t recommend anyone with an accent call here.