An old friend helped me with a mock interview today, to aid me with a real newspaper interview Tuesday.
Again, friends are the best.
He's a smart guy -- former Editor of the Year for GateHouse -- but, better, a truly decent human being.
The exercise for me was excellent, particularly given my seclusion these last few months at the Hermitage on Lake Lemon and before that my apartment at the newspaper where, after COVID struck, I wandered the barren halls.
In the mock interview, I could hear myself rant and sputter, fail to focus and then bring up occasional wisdom or whimsy.
My friend praised the latter two and offered up other cogent advice:
-- Avoid negative words.
-- Don't say anything that's shocking, because that will be the memory.
-- Please, no eating a Slim Jim during the interview. (I'm 54 years old and never heard this advice. Good stuff.)
Ultimately, it was fun to talk journalism with an old friend, share stories and learn more even at my advanced age.
Peace and Slim Jims unto you my brothers and sisters.