When Things Got Real Part 3: Interviews, Tiny Macs, and a Cold Shoulder
All Aboard the First Real Job Express...
At the end of Part 2, I had just learned that “writing” was an actual job (yes, I was a bit behind…) and quickly secured interviews at two ad agencies, due in no small part to a very valuable work/study experience at the Wisconsin Division of Tourism (thanks, Gary Knowles). One opportunity was located in a Milwaukee suburb, and the other “up north,” closer to my hometown of Wausau, WI.
I was selling myself as a graphic designer who could also write the words. Because writing is an actual job!
I faced an interesting dichotomy. The “up north” agency was in a rural area, but used the sort of computers with which I was familiar (what we used to refer to as “PCs”). Eisner & Associates was in a suburb of “the big city”—Milwaukee—but I was told in advance that they used the new kids on the block, Macintosh computers.
Naturally, when asked on the phone by Eisner’s art director if I had experience with Macs, I answered “Yes, indeed!” without hesitation.
I had, in fact, never touched a Macintosh computer. I saw the ads, but it was a bit too “hot rod” for a state agency like the Division of Tourism, where I still toiled. Fortunately, recent UW-Madison graduates like myself retained access to the computer lab, so I spent substantial time in front of a Mac SE practicing and looking over the shoulders of people who seemed to have Apple aptitude.
Never Too Old to Learn
I went to my first interview—the one “up North,”—with no real jitters to speak of. How hard can it be to answer some questions and be friendly? My recollection was that we had a “chat only” session on that visit. If I measured up on the basis of our initial conversation, we’d follow up in a week or so with a short test project.
To be honest, I wasn’t enormously anxious to transition into a small town configuration. I also remember also being unimpressed by the cubicle situation in their “bullpen.” Really nice people, though; I felt like I’d jump in if invited.
About a week later, I got directions to William Eisner and Associates in Hales Corners—which, I was assured, was a mere stone’s throw from bustling Milwaukee.
The directions to get there seemed to me to be the first interview test/challenge. “There’s a big building off the main street that has a giant ‘Eisner’ sign,” I was told over the phone by a nice female representative, to my relief.
“But you don’t want to go there,” she continued. End of relief. There was, in fact, a diagonal street near that building that turned onto a parkland road, which would eventually lead you to a fairly large complex somewhat hidden behind a shield of trees.
Job Test One, I guess.
As luck would have it, there was a gas station near the off-ramp that had both a public restroom and an attendant who knew the neighborhood. Directions from that spot were simple, and I found the building —which is now being disassembled (see above)—without much stress.
Cold Shoulder
I was impressed. The part of the complex furthest from the roadway looked like it was obviously something different years ago (it was, in fact, the Valley View School building, built in 1961), but the portion of the building closest to the road (a later addition to Valley View School, I learned) was pretty slick looking. Eisner and Associates had moved in a decade previous to my arrival, so the interior was impressive and bore no resemblance to a school. The lobby was circular with a fountain in the middle, and a ring of offices and meeting rooms looked down from above.
I spent some time talking to Gloria, the friendly art director and native of Guatemala. Next was a conversation with Bill Eisner, who’d taken over the reigns of his father Bill Sr.’s agency years earlier. I liked him immediately, and he felt the idea of a designer who writes (or a writer who designs) fit nicely with his modernization plans.
“How about a test project? Sort of a trial run,” he suggested.
Luck struck again. The project was a newsletter, which I could do in my sleep by that point. The copy consisted of finished articles that required editing, and one outline for a small article I would write. I was taken to a room stocked with two Mac SE’s—see familiar rectangle above—with an older gentleman hunched over one of them, grimacing at the tiny screen in front of him.
I’d been told by Gloria earlier that his name was Edward, and he was the original creative director who founded the agency years earlier with the senior Eisner. He still did occasional projects there, and now I was a few feet away from him auditioning for a job.
Time to ingratiate myself with a man who could pull some strings.
“These Macs are pretty nifty, huh?” I might have said—I can’t remember exactly what manner of small talk I uncorked. The bottom line was, other than a slightly irritated nod in my direction when I sat down, he never replied to my small talk or acknowledged my presence. Not a single word.
I felt my chances for suburban Milwaukee employment dwindling.
No Time for Small Talk
I finished my test-drive newsletter and hit “print.” Ed gave me a bit of a maybe-friendly head tilt on my way out. I made some small talk with the persons I’d met earlier and headed back to Madison, fingers crossed.
Long story short — time to rent a U-Haul; I got the gig.
About a month later, on my very first day there, I described to art director Gloria my initial concern about Ed, the co-founder of the agency. Maybe we’d gotten off on the wrong foot, as I felt he was avoiding any manner of interaction with me.
“Were you on his left side?” She was already smiling ear-to-ear.
“Ed is nearly deaf in his left ear, and he’s always misplacing his hearing aid,” she laughed.
Sure enough, in my first weeks and months at William Eisner and Associates, Ed very patiently taught me how to do layouts the “pre-Mac” way with a t-square and art table, and I taught him to curse a bit less at Quark Xpress and Mac screens in general.
And, every two weeks I got a check for graphic design and…writing.
In Part 4 - One head, many hats, and Pearl Jam…