For those of you who haven't read the back story it's here:

http://open.salon.com/blog/oesheepdog/2009/04/10/i_turned_down_the_cia_the_story_of_my_interviews_part_i

and here:

http://open.salon.com/blog/oesheepdog/2009/04/13/i_turned_down_the_cia_my_interviews_part_ii/comment

Summer passes into fall. Fall passes into winter. Winter passes into spring, and spring becomes summer. With each passing day, my memories of that unusual Saturday of my life start to fade. I no longer think about "if I answered this differently, or chose to write my essay like that," the outcome would have been different.

There have been some significant changes in my life. I no longer work at the construction project. I've signed up with a start up company, where I lead the sales and marketing efforts, as well as getting my Private Detective license. All seems right with the world.

In early June I get my third call from the CIA. The voice on the phone says they've scheduled an interview in Virginia the following week.

All expenses will be paid. I will fly to DC the afternoon before, have the interview the following morning and return to Boston in the early evening.

Flight and hotel reservations have been made in my name. I will have meal and transportation expenses. Those expenses will be reimbursed. I  want to remind the reader that the Cold War was still underway, and that these events took place before September 11, 2001. These were the days before e-tickets. It was a much different time.

I got to the airport and went to the ticket counter and gave them my name. Yes sir, Mr. Sheepdog, the clerk at the counter said. He printed off the ticket and also gave me my return itinerary and ticket. He printed a boarding pass and thanked me very much for flying Eastern Air Lines.

I walked to the gate through a metal detector and had to remove my watch, keys and pocket change to gain entry. I found the gate, boarded the plane, got settled and then looked at the itinerary.

It had my name printed and it also said US Navy. My mouth dropped open, and I recalled my first interview at the library where I had seen Jim's Department of Defense credentials. As I settled back in my seat, I thought, "this is going to be quite an adventure."

When I got to National Airport I boarded the Metro and took the blue line to Rosslyn. My hotel was across the street from the Metro station so I went and checked in.

It was mid afternoon, so I decided I would visit the Air and Space Museum on the Mall near the Smithsonian. I boarded the Metro and noticed that a hotel guest I saw in the lobby do likewise.

I ended up walking along the Mall for awhile before heading to the Air and Space Museum. While in the museum, I saw the individual from the hotel lobby and the Metro. After the museum i headed back to the hotel.

I had been given an address in surburan Virginia for the interview. I thought I might be going to the CIA headquarters in Langley, but this address was located west, southwest of DC. I took a cab and the cab driver was one of those polite, talkative southern types.

As we drove out on one of the interstates that connects the surburbs with downtown DC, I hoped this guy knew where he was going. It seemed he did, and we drove along surburban streets into an office park with large parking lots and what I would call low rise office building. Each of the buildings was post 1960s red brick no more than five floors in height. Many had the logos of the companies that had offices housed there. The building where my interview was, has a logo on it, but I had never heard of the company, and wondered if it were some obscure defense contractor shared space there.

At the entrance, I paid the fare, got a receipt, and got out of the cab. The cab driver mentioned something about finding a bathroom, but I was focused on the interview so I headed into the building.

In most office buildings of this type there would be a floor directory listing the name of the business and floor. You'd go to the elveator, press the floor button and get lifted.

The lobby of this office building didn't look like this. There were the velvet ropes which blocked off access to the elevators and two uniformed Federal Protective Service police officers sat at console flanked by a U.S, flag. I knew then that the logo on the building was in fact, ficticious.

I went up to the console, and gave my name and said I had an appointment. He asked for my ID, and instead of showing him my driver's license, I gave hime my Private Detective license photo ID.

Much to my surprise he was impressed and said, "This is pretty cool. I've never seen one of these before." He set about creating a temporary ID for me. While he did so I heard some commotion behind me.

Evidently the cab driver had parked his cab, entered the building quiety behind me and ascended some stairs looking for a restroom. He was being "escorted," with his arms firmly pinned behind his back, down the stairs by two armed FPS officers.  

The officer at the desk asked me, "Do you know him?" I replied he was the cab driver who brought me from the hotel, but other than on the ride over I had never seen him before. The officer behind the desk nodded to his two colleagues, and the cab driver was whisked out of the building amid his protestatons of "I just need to use the bathroom."

Turning his attention back to me, some is coming down to escort you. I had a paper badge, that stated in red letters Escort Required at all times.

A woman introduced herself to me and we took the elevator upstairs. We walked down a long corridor past offices and arrived at a corner office. I gentleman in shirtsleeves introduced himself as Don somebody and invited me to take my jacket off and get comfortable. This was the only time in my professional career I was offered this courtesy, and I took hin up on it.

We talked for maybe an hour and half. This first thing he talked about was my test results. Evidently, I had an aptitude for logisitics, and I was no longer considered for the Security Officer position. Not a crushing blow, but I felt a little disappointed. He talked about the logistics role, what would be expected of me and how there would be opportunities for rapid advancement within 18 months. I realized I wasn't being interviewed. He was offering me the job. This position paid about eight thousand dollars less than what I was currently making. Also, because this was a lower level job, relocation expenses would not be available.

I told him I wanted to think this over, and he gave me about 4 days to give it consideration. I needed to research housing costs in Virginia, and would it be worth it starting anew.

He told me there was a shuttle van that would take me to Langley where I could get my expenses reimbursed, and another shuttle would take me from Langley back to my hotel.   

As I rode in the van back to Langley, I had pretty much made up my mind that I would turn down the job. There were too many financial hurdles that needed to be overcome. When I got to Langley, I went to get my reibursements for the trip. In the hallway I saw the same person that I saw at the hotel, in the Metro, and at the Air and Space museum. That unnerved me a bit. I walked outside the building to take a shuttle back to the hotel.

The following Monday, I called Don, thanked him for the job offer and I turned down the CIA. I have often wondered how different my life would be had I accepted it. I don't have any regrets, I just know my life would have followed a different path.