así por su mérito , como-por-su dignidad , es

"This job," my friend Pete told me, "is one I really want, and by God I'm going to get it. I'm really primed for success at tomorrow's interview!"

The job was right up Pete's alley, working with a Computer- Aided Design and Drafting (CADD) program. He knew computers and was just one year away from his engineering degree.

"I've done my homework," Pete assured me.

I assumed he had taken a refresher course in CADD, but no as he explained it, "The job interview these days is a duel for power. I've studied up on it. I've read Power Through Clothes Looking Out for Yourself, Go for Success. I've read all the books and I'll knock them dead tomorrow!"

I ran into Pete a week later, and I asked, "Did you get the job?"

Pete sighed deeply. "I don't know. I went to so much trouble— I wore a perfectly tailored suit, single breasted with a vest, charcoal gray, and a white shirt. White's always good, the books say. I wanted to appear conservative, send a message of dignity, strength."

"I get it. You dressed for success." "Exactly. Even wore a maroon tie."

"Looking like that," I said carefully, "how could you miss?" He looked at me bleakly. "I walked into the boss's office for the interview, and what do you think he was wearing?"

I nodded. "Of course. The same outfit? Or was he dressed for more power?"

"No way! He was wearing running shoes and jeans and a T- shirt! And he was swinging a golf club. Kept fiddling with it all during the interview."

I shook my head. "Really?"

"I took the position of power when we sat down," Pete said wistfully.

"What's that?"

"A firm seat, erect and quiet. Fidgeting betrays an inner weak- ness, so I sat stiff, my eyes fixed on his. Firm eye contact, you know. It's always supposed to work."

"Did it?"

Pete shrugged. "He kept fidgeting with that golf club. He just ignored my clothes. What a disappointment."

"What now, Pete?"

"Well . . . " He chewed his lip. "I just picked up this book on power through intimidation. Next time I might try a navy blue suit and a yellow tie . . . "

Poor Pete. He had a simple problem. He didn't really understand what power is. He assumed that the subtext of power was power itself. He had read that powerful men dress in a certain way, and he made the false assumption that dressing that way would give him power.

Power, however, is a more subtle thing than the way you dress, the way you move or sit. Pete was thrown off course when he ran up against one of those rare men who are uninterested in the trappings of power that Pete expected.

The boss who interviewed him had enough power to disregard all outward appearances. He could dress as he pleased, act as he pleased, fidget when he wanted to. There was no way Pete could play any power games with a man like that.

The only power Pete had was his knowledge of CADD. This "power" eventually got him an excellent job. He had left his resume with the boss's secretary, and she sent it on to personnel. There his strength was recognized, and he was called back for another interview.

"Forget what you read about power," I advised him. "Just be straightforward and don't play games."

"Are you sure I shouldn't try a navy blue suit and a yellow tie?"

"Do you want the job, Pete?" "You know I do."

"Are you good at CADD?" "Tops."

"Okay, here's some good advice. Sell all those books on power and buy some clothes bags and mothballs."

He looked bewildered. "Why?"

"To store away your power clothes. Dress the way you feel most comfortable, in good taste of course. The guy who interviews you has more power than you. Concentrate on one thing. Your skill at CADD."

"You think that'll work?"

"It'll work better than your other attempt." And I was right. Pete got the job and is happy doing the work he knows best.

THE OLD GAME PLAYER

The word power is thrown around pretty loosely, and many of us, like Pete, confuse power with its subtexts. Webster does define power as "a possession of control, authority, or influence over others." But the second definition is "ability to get or produce an effect."

It is this definition, the ability to act, that real power is all about. Pete's power lies in his ability at CADD. It was a talent that gave him a unique strength. But the kind of power that Pete had read about in many of the "how to" books was the power that concerns itself with influence, control, or sway.

Baron John Acton, who lived during the second half of the nineteenth century, explained the trouble with this first definition of power when he wrote, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Often, in the business world, this corrupting tendency of power takes the form of obnoxious game playing.

I worked for a boss in a small company who was fond of these power games. We called one of his favorite games "blotting out the light-" He would come up to a worker's desk and just stand there. As one young woman put it, "He blotted out the light. He loomed over me like some enormous bird of prey, not saying anything, just looking. If I was on the phone, no matter with whom, I'd have to mutter 'I'll call you back,' and hang up to give him my full attention."

He had another favorite game which Bill, one of the salesmen, labeled "nobody's home on the telephone." As Bill explained it: "He'd call me when he knew I was out to lunch, and he'd leave a message with my secretary. When I tried to call him back, he'd always be in conference.

"I'd leave word that I had called, and sure enough he'd get back when he knew I was away from my desk. He must have clocked every move I made. I'd return the call, and he was 'unavail- able' just then.

"This would go on for days, it seemed, and if I met him in the hall and tried to ask what he wanted or set up a date, he'd hurry past in annoyance. 'Why don't you give me a call, Bill.' It wore me down!"

Bill, however, didn't take the game playing for long. He was a good salesman, and that gave him some power. He looked around quietly and found a better job. "I did that while I was still working for the old game player," he told me. "The next time I called him back, and he was 'not available,' I told his secretary, 'Well, he knows where to find me!' "

I laughed, envisioning the boss's face when he heard that. "What did he do?"

Bill shrugged. "Funny thing. He must have realized I didn't care. He did an about-face and became very respectful. I realized

then that he needed me, and if I wanted to, I could make some headway."

"Did you?"

"No." Bill shook his head. "I don't like to play those games. I gave him notice and I started the new job the next week."