The X-Rated Job Interview

It was cracked, alright.

Yesterday I had an job interview at a sprawling, just-built private estate. I was sitting at a table with the Estate Manager in a room that housed a pool table and a beautiful fireplace. I guess one could call it the den, although it was more like a hall. Above the mantle mounted on the wall was huge flat-screen TV, about six feet wide. CNN was on, muted. My seat faced the windows looking out onto the sprawling, manicured grounds. The Estate Manager sat across from me, facing toward the TV.

As the interview progressed, I noticed the TV was off. I figured one of the housekeepers who'd been passing in and out may have shut it off.

Suddenly, the Estate Manager stops talking mid-sentence with a horrified look on her face. "Oh my God!" she says, looking above my head at the screen behind me. I turn around to see what she's watching.

PORN is on the television. Nasty, dirty, hardcore, hetero porn with lots of closeups of the anal sex that is being vigorously performed by two adult film stars. Close-up shots + a six-foot screen = much more detail than I needed to know. I think my jaw dropped onto the table. At least the system was still on mute and there weren't any squeals and grunts to accompany the visuals!

"Oh my God!" the estate manager says again, as she jumps up and hustles across the room and grabs the touch-screen universal remote off of its charger. And because it's a brand new home with a brand new AV system, she doesn't know how to work the remote. Have you ever seen one of these things? So crazy! It probably cost more than I've had in my savings account in the past year.



She yells for the French chef, who is nearby in the kitchen. He enters the room, unaware of the chaos onscreen. "Turn off the TV!" the Estate Manager says to him as she jams the remote into his hands. He fumbles with it too, looks up at the TV, sees the anal show, his eyes widen, he exclaims in a thich French accent "Ooh Monsieur!" and continues to randomly push the buttons.

Finally, the TV goes off. I cover my mouth and try not to burst out laughing. We all start laughing. The chef returns to cooking. The Estate Manager apologizes profusely. We get back to business, but there's palpable change in the air. The incident seems to have leveled the field, and I'm actually glad the porn mishap occurred. My future employer got to see that I am not uptight and don't get flustered, and I got to see that she's human and mistakes happen.

I assume the "Mister" of the estate was sequestered in his master bedroom somewhere in one of the home's many wings, enjoying what he thought was some quality private time watching one of his plethora of televisions. Hopefully he might read up on the operation of his audiovisual system before hunkering down next time on "Anal Alley."