I drive over to the Aylster Hotel, park and get to Nieve, a posh bistro decorated in snowy white, with exactly ten minutes to spare.
A maître d’ in a crisp white jacket stands at the entrance to the restaurant. I give him my interviewer’s name—Marion Blaire. He nods without checking the reservation log and takes me back to a private booth. It’s set with a white tablecloth and a gorgeous centerpiece made with blue and lavender flowers I don’t recognize.
Marion’s already at the table, nursing a glass of champagne that’s still fizzing. It’s a little surprising that he’s here so early.
“Amy! Hi, I’m Marion Blaire. Nice to finally meet you.” He stands and extends a hand.
I pump it a couple of times. “Hi, Marion. Nice to meet you, too.”
The camera on his computer must be subpar, because he looks much better in person. He’s a prototypical American golden boy with sandy hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a wide, bleach-assisted grin. He wears a three-piece suit, too formal for SoCal, but he might be overdressed to compensate for his age. He’s in his mid-thirties, too young to be a junior partner at a private equity firm. But that doesn’t matter, since he’s senior enough within the Blaire Group to make hiring decisions.
I plan to impress the hell out of him.
Our waiter takes our lunch order. I ask for lightly seared sliced sea bream in green sauce, since it’s easy to eat and talk this way. Marion opts for steak with mashed potatoes.
We chitchat a bit, mainly personal stuff. I let Marion take the lead, since he’s the interviewer. I tell him about my dad in Vegas, and he tells me about his father, who works at the top of the Blaire Group, then about his mother’s trips.
“She absolutely loves to travel.”
I merely smile and say, “Awesome,” since I don’t have a female parental figure to speak adoringly about.
Our food arrives, and he starts the actual interview. “Before we begin, I just want you to know the in-person interview is something we do just to make sure. So you don’t have to be overly nervous or anything. We really liked your résumé and experience. And the Zoom talk was very productive.”
“Thanks.” I give him a smile. I know why we’re here, but it’s always nice to hear positive reinforcement.
“So. Why are you thinking about leaving Emmett Lasker?”
An odd way to phrase the question. Most people would name the firm, not my boss himself. And most wouldn’t gaze at me like they’re eager to hear what a horrible human being he is.
Well. Emmett Lasker is the biggest bosshole in this half of the galaxy, but I’m not going to trash-talk my boss to a potential employer.
I paste on a neutral smile. “I’m looking for new challenges and opportunities, and I think the Blaire Group can provide that.”
“Uh-huh. I’m just surprised because most think of venture capital as an exit opportunity, not something you grind through looking for something better.”
“Sure. But private equity is also a great exit opportunity.” I expected a question like this. “I like the deals the Blaire Group has done, and I think that’s where I can grow the most professionally.”
“Won’t you miss working for Emmett Lasker? He has a rep.”
Again bringing up Emmett. Marion is the second son of the founder of the Blaire Group, and there was probably a bit of nepotism involved for him to make junior partner at his age. Emmett, on the other hand, founded his own firm with one of his brothers. So Marion might be feeling a little inferior by comparison.
But I’m not going to let him know I suspect any of that. “I’ve spent almost two years with him, so the reputation doesn’t hold much attraction for me anymore.”
A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Aces. The whole feet of clay thing, eh?” He smirks and takes a bite of his steak. “So tell me about your hobbies. Anything interesting?”
I can’t tell him my main hobby is trying to get as much sleep as possible, so I lie. “Not really. But I enjoy reading.” He doesn’t need to know the last book I read was The Mathematics of Financial Derivatives for my MBA.
“So do I,” he says with a smile.
Bet the last thing he read was somebody’s PowerPoint presentation. I can relate. Most people like to claim they’re readers because it makes them appear smart, even if the only thing they read is social media. Modern life keeps us too busy to sit around just reading.
We chat some more between bites. My fish is excellent, but I’d like it more if I didn’t have to fake some of my answers to appear well rounded and normal. The last thing I want is for Marion to think I’m harried or suffering under Emmett Lasker’s authoritarian dictatorship. The goal is look like I can effortlessly handle anything and everything thrown my way.
Marion gets our check, then smiles. “Here’s my card. I really enjoyed talking with you, and I’ll be in touch within a week with our decision.”
I smile back, taking the card. “Thank you.”
As I drive back to the office, I take deep breaths. I’m a little puzzled that Marion didn’t seem that interested in my work experience. Although he was present during the Zoom interview and we spoke a lot about the deals and so on I’ve worked on, I expected him to have at least one or two additional questions. He spent most of our lunch discussing our personal interests—while making sure to throw in questions about Emmett.