Nobody important

I had been living in Wisconsin a grand total of three months when I found myself freshly fired and sitting in a radio station lobby waiting for an interview. People came and went through that lobby. I smiled at every one of them, but none of them came to talk to me. The man I was waiting for was named Jim.

Finally, a tall thin man wearing a dress shirt and tie strode past. We nodded to each other. He stuck his head into the receptionist's office, muttered a few words to her, then turned to me.
"Are you here for an interview?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied gathering my papers.
"Oh, don't get up," he stopped me. "I'm nobody important."

He then sat across from me right there in the lobby asking about my radio history (two stations in two years), had I ever done news (read it but not written or reported any), and did I happen to have a demo tape. No, I did not have any recorded sample of my work experience.

Turned out this man worked in the news department, and they were currently in need of a news person. With two men in the department already, a female voice would be nice to have. I was willing to give anything a try, so he took me to a studio to record me doing a newscast. After some coaching and several takes, he had a cassette to play for management.
Typing a label for the cassette, he asked me to spell my name and give him my phone number.

Then, he took me to meet Jim.
He hadn't even been my interview.

Jim never did hire me to do news. But, within a week, one of the station's office staff resigned, and I took her place. And within a year, I was dating the newsman who had claimed he was nobody important.

Seventeen years ago *today*, I married that newsman.

"Nobody important" he'd said.
Liar.