The Girls Have Ears

One day, years ago, I was hired by a company in California for an interpreting task. The boss needed three Russian interpreters, and since I was hired first, he entrusted me with the task of finding two more, by interviewing some applicants the next day at his office.

The following morning I interviewed a man and a woman first, and they were not that great. Then a guy showed up, who seemed quite confident from the get-go, and his skills appeared impressive. I told him the task was urgent, and the decision would be made within two hours, and that I would call him.

“Oh no, I can stop by in person later. My wife is waiting outside and we need to go to the mall, anyway,” he explained. By the tone of his voice, I understood he was sure he got the job, and I definitely had him in mind as one of the hired professionals.

The office overlooked the parking lot, and the windows were open on that hot day. I suddenly heard the sound of a car door opening, then an indistinct question asked by a female voice, and then a loud answer by my interviewee. “Of course, it went well. The interviewer’s ok, a nondescript fat chick. I totally impressed her.” With these words, he got into the car and they drove off.

I know these words were not meant for my ears, but I suddenly felt like someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me. I didn’t want to be described like this in any context, left alone professional. Like in some sort of mist, I interviewed two more people, and they were just fine.

The decision was to be made immediately, so I went to the boss and told him the whole story. “I am so sorry. I know it’d be hard for you to work with the guy after hearing this, but for me the professional skills are beyond everything. Up to you really, whether to hire him or not,” he said after a quick reflection.

Within minutes, the same red car parked in front of the office building. I didn’t have any decision in my head, but I also didn’t want to deal with this for much longer. I approached the car; the man rolled the window down.

“Look,” I exclaimed, blushing and sweating. “Your skills are excellent, but I accidentally overheard what you said about me to your wife, and it would be very awkward for me to work with you for four days.”

Maybe I was hoping he’d apologize, and then I’d hire him and that would be the end of it. Bit his eyes suddenly lit up with extreme anger. “Are you serious now? First, why did you even listen to what I said? Second, it was my personal conversation. Third, how else should I describe you to my wife? I respect her and don’t want to make her jealous. You are attractive, but come on. I will complain to the employer about you being unfair to me—“

His loud speech was interrupted by his wife, who opened her door and came up to me. “You know what, thank you! Finally someone says it to him, and he might finally learn his lesson. He’s so fucking judgmental, and never can say a nice word about anyone! Thanks so much about not hiring him!”

She awkwardly gave me something like a side hug, jumped in the car, and drove away before her stunned husband had a chance to say anything, and I suddenly felt extremely seen, heard, and relieved...