2010
It started with an email. Fresh off of the Diddy-led Ciroc boat of work, I sent a private email to a select group of friends letting them know I was back on the freelance market. Fast forward a few weeks later, I received an email from Henry* a fellow digital guy who worked with a few artists. He potentially had a project management opportunity for me that would tide me over for a few seasons and could turn permanent. Never one to be coy, Henry broke down the details before I could ask: a) digital production b) travel necessary c) it’s for a record label d) the artist was female.
Almost immediately my guard went up, record labels aren’t exactly praised for their savvy business practices and I was still recovering from working with a celebrity. At this point, I was still trying to catch up to the life that I basically ignored in the name of doing great, award winning work and frankly—I was fucking tired. But since my last name isn’t Bloomberg, have no trust find to speak of and love to travel, bills must be paid and I sent him my resume.
Over the next few weeks there were phone interviews with assistants, lawyers and marketing managers. They never told me the artist and I never asked. One of the attorneys was a pretty well known entertainment player with an A-list roster. But I didn’t get my hopes up. Personally I was thinking it was a new talent who they were grooming and papers were yet to be signed. No big deal, since I was never extended a non-disclosure agreement** I figured that if they really wanted to tell me, I would find out when the moment was necessary. After a few more calls, shared links of work and general questions about my management skills and past experience as it related public figures, I was given a date, time and location for my final interview with the artist. I was told she was a well-known woman who was looking to define her online presence and wanted to work closely with an internal project manager to get it done with the selected agency.
Simple enough right?
Pre-interview, I attempted to do all of the pre-research I could. I researched the label, recent releases, associated social media, public analytic findings…anything that would give me a clue into expectations. However the difference between this and other previous interview was that I had limited information to work with. I didn’t have any advantages I could think of and I didn’t want to stalk Henry and have him risk his own position for me. Beyond that, I just really wanted to plan a trip abroad and be still. Rest was calling me and the idea of once again shifting my life to revolve around another celeb who didn’t believe in doing business before 2pm was in the back of my mind. I heard the voice, but I put on my big girl panties and tried to figure out what to wear.
Interview day is here and I look…just ok. True to fashion, my time was moved around at the last minute and I found myself just throwing on a pair of jeans, boots and a tailored shirt. I figured since I haven’t actually worn a suit on an interview in 8 years that this would not be the time to start. I was annoyed, tired, and more interested in my post-interview dinner options than my actual interview. I was nervous, but not as nervous a normal. If anything, I was way too relaxed. In hindsight, this was not a good sign.
I get to the location, a recording studio located in Times Square. Nothing new to me, but anyone who works in the music industry knows that a studio location means that you probably will have to wait. And no one ever tells you how long. Great.
I walk in, meet Angel* the assistant I had been communicating with and sit. After a surprisingly short wait, I’m told “she’s ready for you.” I get up and suddenly get extremely nervous and have no idea why. Maybe I’m just hungry? I get over it and walk in. Generally when I walk into an interview environment I do a quick scan of the entire room to get a sense of things. This time my eyes centered on a small, almost tiny woman with blonde hair siting on the couch staring into her computer screen. The studio was a bit dim so I didn’t immediately recognize her. She stood up straight, walked towards me and extended her hand, “Hi! Nice to meet you Shannon, I’m Beyonce.”
My first thought? I was pissed I didn’t do something cool with my hair and skipped on a manicure. Why the hell didn’t I just wake up earlier to get that manicure?
Did I mention that I’m rarely starstruck? Yeah, I may have lied.
“Hello Beyonce, it’s nice to meet you too.” is all I could get out before realizing that this was indeed real—and that it would just be me and her talking to each other.
Over the next 20 minutes or so we just talked. She had questions, I had answers. I had advice and ways of working, she listened. Frankly it was a normal conversation between two business-minded women who both had a need and were feeling each other out a bit. She was pleasant, very very smart and clear about her intentions and overall just a cool chick.
It was a good interview. I was nervous so I blabbed a bit, she could tell so she just smiled and asked more questions. It was over before I knew it, we shook hands and I offered to follow up with some information and she agreed. She walked me out, I walked outside and pretty much stared at Times Square in a haze. I just had a job interview with Beyonce, and I really wanted a falafel.
So what’s the point of this story? Well, as “cool” as it may sounds, I later realized just how much I DIDN’T do well on this interview and now two years later, I realize that it was a blessing in disguise and there were lessons to be learned:
It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. Here is where I dropped the ball: in my nervousness I mentioned something about how I normally don’t take meetings on Mondays and it was good timing that our interview was that day. A big mistake…big! Here I am talking to one of the busiest people on the planet and I basically say “Yeah, I really hate making sacrifices on my for time for things that are important.” She responded by saying “Well thank you for taking the time on your day off.” With a smile
Here are some extras for the super Bey fans:
She has amazing nails.
She’s shorter/tinier than I ever imagined.
She really is really, really, really nice.
Her accent is pretty cool when she talks.
She’s more digital-savvy than I think most people imagine.
Did I mention she has amazing nails?
http://sdubington.tumblr.com/post/29125095557/beyonce-and-the-best-worst-job-interview-ever