In the middle of September I went in for my second interview, because Jill Clayburgh evidently liked me. This time I met Jon Stewart, complete with the worried rubbing of the forehead; in fact it was the rubbing of the forehead in conjunction with the worried look that led me to dub him Jon Stewart.
I could tell Jon was perplexed. Why did I want to work at the opera? Did I think it was going to be fun? What did I know about opera? At that point I would have told him pretty much anything to get a job. I told him that I was passionate if ignorant about opera, that I would do a great job, that I knew all about making travel arrangements, that I was accustomed to difficult personalities.
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