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The Job Interview

By Stacy M. Clement, MA

If you transition on the job, this may never happen to you. But if you, like me, have to find a job for whatever reason during transition, the job interview can be a tremulous event, fraught with acid dripping, sweating palms, and a dry throat.

I have been working hard to complete my doctorate and now as I reach the stage when I have to wait for this professor, or that testing agency, or those subjects to follow-through on their parts of my process, I find that I have some time on my hands. With a desire to return to a role of contributing to the coffers of the family financial well being, I thought a job would be better than selling my oil paintings on the streets of Paris (I don't paint, so I think it was a good choice). I began by surfing my new home, the Internet, looking at the many career postings, sure that the six figure position was waiting just for me (As Jim Croce said, "trying to find me an executive position, but no matter how smoothed I talked..."). I posted a resume, as my femme self of course, and waited for the offers to flow in. Nothing. I tried the classifieds of the local newspapers. Heck. I figured the LA Times was about as comprehensive a site as I needed. I printed eye-catching resumes, sent them out, and waited. Nothing. I was forced to accept the fact that the disclaimer I include at the end of resume, where it says that not all jobs, or all references will refer to me as Stacy, or with the feminine pronoun, may be hindering my chances in the market. How, I mused, could I sidestep that land mine?

I have worked, while completing my education, as a temp. You know, filling in for this person on vacation, maternity leave, or as an additional member of the team during a business rush. So, I thought, why couldn't I do that? Why not just get a temp job at a few places, wow them with my abilities, and take their references for me as 'Stacy?' Yeah sure. Well I had to try.

Now, because I work for a temp agency that my wife uses at her job, I didn't want to pollute her workplace with rumors of her husband, changing sex and working through the same temp agency. I have found that the corporate world here in LA loves, just simply loves, to gossip and I did not want to be the fodder for that process, especially not if it impacted my spouse and her job. Besides, the true test would be to get a job from start to finish as Stacy. After all, wasn't that where I was headed in the big picture, anyway?

I called a local agency and inquired as to a listing they had in the Times. "Yes," I said, I had all the requirements for the job, computer skills and the ability to handle a heavy work load. "Yes, I could come to their office to fill out paper work and do the usual testing." "Name?" "Stacy, "Stacy Clement." "Fine, I'll see you at eight in the morning."

I thought that I could pull this off. I had done so well at the convention of the APA in August 2,000 miles from home, surely I could do equally well right in my own back yard. So I laid out all my clothes the night before and headed off to sleep with anticipation of a new adventure, the next step in my transition saga.

I rose early and had my coffee and paper with my spouse as we normally do. We both love the quiet early morning hours, always have, and I saw no reason to change routine at this point. I finished my breakfast bar and second cup of coffee, kissed her cheek, and headed off to prepare for the day. A shower and close shave followed. While letting the hot water pound my neck, I wondered, as I often do these days, about the path I am walking and how it affects me and those around me. Judi was supportive, thank goddess, and the rest of the family tolerant. My son was loving and my ex-wife saw it as an emotional, if not a physical, improvement. As I toweled off, I was sure that I was making positive progress.

I began by pulling my long hair back in a pony tail. I wanted to wear my hair up and have a wig that is perfect. I put on the wig cap and began the makeup . . . foundation, blush, eyeliner, mascara, shadow, lip liner and lipstick. There, that looks very corporate, not over done or trashy. I slipped into black pantyhose and white bra. No falsies today (I needed comfort first and foremost) as I wore an underwire bra that pulled my own budding breasts up nicely. I slid into the navy blue skirt that hit right at the kneecap and carefully pulled the white silk shell over my head. I looked in the mirror and smoothed and adjusted everything in its place. Gold and blue earrings in the bottom holes and small pearls in the top were next. I pulled my hair on and pinned it here and there. No surprises for this girl from shifting hair. A squirt of Allure and I was ready for inspection by my best friend.

She was just heading into the bedroom to begin getting ready for her day and said I looked great, but had some makeup on my white shell. No problem she said and led me to the sink to towel it off. "You look great," she said. and I believed her.

It was going to be hot so I left my suit jacket on a hanger and placed it in the back-seat. It looked especially corporate with its matching yellow vest and blue 1" heels completing the outfit. I kissed my love and headed off to enter the corporate world.

I have an above average working knowledge of most office software systems and thought I could continue my work as an administrative assistant, word processor, or document creator as Stacy. So that's what I was aiming for - $15 an hour was not too bad for a girl's first position.

The drive took its planned thirty minutes on surface streets (in LA at 7:30 a.m. they are every bit as fast as the freeways), and I arrived at five minutes before eight. I walked in, identified myself and began the process of filling out the mountain of paperwork (do these people know about trees and how many it takes to make paper?). I puzzled over the fluid and fluctuating nature of the papers I had to fill out. Anything that had to do with the IRS or the INS (Immigration and Naturalization) had to be completed in my 'boy name' while my application, job skills, and preferred positions I completed in my 'girl name.' I was confused, so I could imagine how the interviewer would do.

I turned in the paperwork and was led to a room to watch an introduction video. Then to a computer terminal to test my skills on the keyboard and with software. I turned all those results in and waited in a common area, which was now bustling with people, for my interview. I sat quietly, shared a joke about the spelling test with another woman filling out papers, and waited. It wasn't long before Cindy came forward and called "Stacy." To which, I of course, stood up and responded. Cindy's eyes got big for just a second and then she guided me to her desk. We chatted for about fifteen minutes about what kinds of work I wanted, how long before I was finished with my doctorate, and where in the area I could work. I revealed that I had worked across the street for the engineering company and suggested they call there to check on my work habits and production (the woman whose name I gave knows all about Stacy). The interview ended and Cindy shook my hand assuring me that they would be calling, soon. I thanked her and gathered my planner and purse and walked out into the bright morning sun, having accomplished a huge step toward the future.

On the drive home I had to stop at the market and the beauty supply store and those went off as smoothly as the temp agency had. Guess a big part of passing in public is passing in your head and I was doing that. I thought about the fears I had conjured on my way to the interview and how, though I was prepared to handle any of them, none of them came to pass. The agency personnel acted professionally and so far as I know, no one looked twice at me.

All this only happened recently, so I cannot yet tell you what sort of position they found for me. But I am confident in me, if not in them, to be able to make that leap and return to a position of bringing home some bacon. I can suggest, however, that if you find yourself in a situation where you need to build some work experience as your femme self, there is no better way to do it than through a temp agency. Pick a large, national one that has a reputation for success and they will no doubt be as professional as AppleOne was to me. Stay tuned to find out where I am working now!

(c) Stacy M. Clement, MA
tedclem@ix.netcom.com
http://pw1.netcom.com/~tedclem/stacymclement.html

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