I wrote this post back in February to save for a rainy day.
Today is one such rainy day:
If you ordered say, blueberry pancakes, at IHOP and the
waitress brought you strawberry instead, would you freak? Would you morph into
a demon and scream at the waitress as if she were an imbecile? Would smoke come
out of your ears? Probably not. You’d do one of two things: A) Bring the error
to the waitress’s attention and politely request the correct dish or B) Accept
your fate and enjoy the strawberry pancakes. But you’re not my son. And the
waitress is not me, on the phone with a doctor from New Hampshire, conducting
an interview for an upcoming article.
It was a pop tart. I gave my son a cherry pop tart instead
of a blueberry one. We were out of blueberry. I loathe pop tarts. They’re
chock full of high-fructose corn syrup and they amount to a nutritionally
worthless breakfast but I keep them on hand for after-lunch treats (my kids
split one) and emergencies. This interview was one such emergency. I called the
doctor on Wednesday. My house was quiet and orderly and I could have conducted
a highly professional interview but he was not in his office and I left him a
message. He called me back yesterday morning and instead of telling him that I
would have to call him back and getting the kids in order, I acted impulsively
and decided to take the interview then. I hauled out the big guns: pop tarts
and Sponge Bob and sat down in front of my computer. Things started to go south about 10 minutes
My son was not pleased with his cherry pop tart and kept
yelling, “Mommy WHY-DID-YOU-BRING-ME-A-CHERRY-POP-TART-I-DON’T-LIKE-CHERRY.
GET-ME-A-BLUEBERRY-ONE.” This was not said in a kind voice. It reminded me of a
tape I heard in Sunday School in junior high of a man possessed by a demon
named Legion. Not pretty and just a tad distracting. The doctor was gracious
and kind and, best of all, a father of two kids under 5. He kept right on
talking and I kept right on listening, occasionally peeking into the living
room to point at the phone forcibly and give my son the evil eye. As you can
imagine, it was highly effective. My parenting skills, especially under duress,
are off the h-iz-ook.
So, writer Mamas, what’s your strategy for effective and
professional interviewing? Hire a nanny? Invest in a kid-cage? Sound proof
walls? I’m up for suggestions!