Now, of course the ramble didn't go on like this, but it was an awkward injection into the conversation right about the time I might have asked something more, er, difficult.
I'm referring, of course, to my experience purchasing my brand-new car from a dealership back in 1993. As I was test driving what would become my "Gumby Huney," a 1993 Geo Metro hatchback, the middle-aged, haggard-looking salesperson sitting in the passenger seat seemed determined to point out what I think most people would consider a particularly mundane automobile feature. Never mind the fact that this tiny car's "full-sized" glove compartment was a fraction of the size of, say, a recent past car back then of mine, my 1972 Oldsmobile Delta 88, where in its similar feature you could maybe store a baby, the mention of its mere existence can only be described as awkward silence filler or perhaps well-timed attention diversion tactic.
In regards to learning the ropes on this "so-called job I'm doing," both Mike and Maddie have the Diversion-Speak down pat. That ol' chain-smoking broad selling cheap cars at a small-town Massachusetts low-ball dealership a gazillion years ago would be proud. Yet she's proly dead now so....
I meet Mike as he's popping away from his "look I'm working" brief appearance at the office and he motions we meet standing 'round a small picnic table right in the middle of the small campus, easily visible from the two buildings, all the better to peacock our pantomime of busy worker bees for the nosey-body ladies of the admin or ADT offices to peak out their windows at. Edna Cravitz would be proud of them.
"How's the situation with..." He feigns concern, pointing to his neck indicating he's talking about my bug bites as he notices they've faded. "How'd they go away?" (I'm telling you, this guy is borderline sharper than our consumers.) "They healed." I state without the slightest side-eye. We chit-chat about theme parks, his need to stay in the shade due to the sun giving him migraines (oh brother, is he in the wrong state) and other nonsense topics.
But this is small talk. It isn't by definition the obfuscation I speak about above. It's just time wasting. And, begrudgingly, the accepted part of working with other people in an office-like setting. I get that, it's no big. But when we do get down to brass tacks and I start to ask questions about our clients and handling particular things, in he comes with the "Yeah, well, it'll make better sense once we get a new referral and work with them on the preliminary stuff, yada yada." (BTW, he didn't say the word "preliminary." That'd be too high level for him.) And when will we meet? And what will we cover? And is there a flowchart, timeline of events, anything for me to study in the meantime to gauge past results?
Oh but he did mention that he had to reschedule a Wednesday appointment due to a "conflict" as well as letting me know he wouldn't be attending an out-of-town PR event we're tasked with since he has a softball game that day. Hmm, did he mention that reason for his opt-out on that to the CEO?
Maddie's no better. She's scheduling me to meet her at the resale store this week so I can see how she works with her client in buying interview-appropriate clothing. Um, I've been clothes shopping before, I think I could muster that without a training session. But what about the resources she used to get him the interview he's going for? What about the mock interview training? What about the resume-building you work with them on? (For this case, she gave me a chicken-scratch paper the client wrote up detailing his experience, I had to convert this into an appropriate basic resume. She didn't work with him on it.)
I took the initiative today to complete some of my end of the month billing and asked them to review to see if they were done correctly. Still nothing back on this.
"Billing transmits, which would be approved or disapproved by the state....meh, let's ignore that. Better to have you see me remind a client to have good manners and a firm handshake when greeting a prospective employer. Like a glove box, it's something some people might take for granted."