Patrick Walsh: March 2004

Every Friday morning for months I had called NBC and flirted with the girl at Guest Relations, trying to get my resume out of the pile and onto the desk of a mover and/or shaker. Every Friday morning I was shot down. But after the pinata incident I became desperate. I went into the break room, where I made all of my lengthy personal calls on the company dime. I dialed the number and told myself I was not going to give up until I got the results I wanted.

ME: Hello, can I speak to the manager of the Page Program, please?

GIRL: I'm sorry, I can't let you do that. Is there something I can help you with?

ME: Yes, I talk to you every week, this is Patrick Walsh.

GIRL: Oh hey, Pat. Listen, there's nothing I can do.

ME: OK, well if you don't put me through to him I'm going to call back every five minutes for the rest of the day.

GIRL: What?

ME: I'm dead serious. I've got nothing else to do today.

GIRL: Um. I really can't do that, you're on a wait list like everyone else, so...

ME: Great, I'll talk to you in five minutes.

I hung up. Exactly five minutes later, I called back.

ME: Pat Walsh here!

GIRL: Pat, listen, there's -

ME: Should I call back in another five?

GIRL: No, it's just that -

ME: How about I call you back?

I hung up the phone. Five minutes later, I tried again. I did this a few more times, until...

ME: How you doing? Pat Walsh! I think we spoke earlier?

GIRL: (Laughing) Hold on, I'll put you through.

And that was it. Persistence paid off. I spoke to the manager, he looked over my resume, and asked me to come in for an interview. Six months of waiting and it turns out all I had to do was be as obnoxious as possible. I was on cloud nine.

As I looked over my "career path" to that point - Movie Theater Usher, Blockbuster Video assistant manger (fired), Grocery Cashier (fired on my last day), Substitute Teacher, graduate of Webster University (mascot: the Gorlok, said to have "the paws of a speeding cheetah, the horns of a firece buffalo, and the face of a dependable Saint Bernard," but looks more like a combination of Lion, Gopher and Cranky Old Man), I realized I didn't have the most impressive resume. I was going to have to really turn on the charm to get this job. I'd never wanted anything so much in my life.

I didn't sleep at all the night before my interview. It was scheduled was at 9, and I was still living in New Jersey, so I had to take the 8:30 bus into the city. I left my apartment at 8:20, and walked to the bus while putting on my suit jacket. But wait a minute. Hark! The bus was at the stop! A full five minutes early! If I missed that bus, I'd never make the interview on time! I went into a dead sprint, my arms still pinned above my head by the suit jacket. "Wait!" I cried out. 

The ground was covered in ice and snow. As I rounded a corner, I slipped. My hands still trapped above my head, there was nothing to break my fall. I came down hard. It hurt. It hurt much, much more than it should have. An elderly Hispanic woman screamed and pointed. I looked down.

I had landed on a sawed off stop sign post.

Jutting into my side was a jagged rusty metal spear. This wasn't action movie-style, it wasn't six inches into my body or something, but it had torn me up pretty good. My white shirt was ripped open and stained with blood. But I was so focused on getting this job, I didn't care. I picked myself up, buttoned up the coat to cover the ever-growing blood stain, and boarded the bus. Everyone around looked amazed. (Not too amazed. After all, a guy boarding a bus in New Jersey with a bleeding wound is par for the course). I walked to the back of the bus and headed into Manhattan. Nothing was going to stand in my way.

I was charming, I was funny, and I didn't for a second let on that under my jacket I looked like one of the Reservoir Dogs. I walked out, very confident that I'd get a second interview. And fairly confident that I had tetanus.

tags: story of my life  work  new york  temp  nbc  

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