What a difference two years had made. When I started writing my column I never thought I would survive, let alone need extra help. But the business had expanded, and I needed someone to handle the web site, database, billing, and other tasks.

I was about to hire my first employee. I was both nervous and excited. The interview was going well, and I was just about ready to say, "You're hired."

I thought I had found the right person. Bill was a graduate student in journalism, and he wanted to work only 20 hours a week, which is what I needed.

We had actually resolved all of the major issues (money, for example), but Bill had one more question. "Hesh, what is the corporate culture like in your organization?"

"Wait a second," I said. "I do the humor, not you." But he was not smiling; it was a serious question.

He continued, "For example, will we be going to lunch together or are you the kind of boss who keeps to himself and does not fraternize with his employees?"

I had not given it much thought. I ate lunch when I was hungry. And it was the same menu each day: a fresh pot of coffee, a twice-toasted sesame bagel, and fat-free cream cheese (don't try it; it tastes terrible).

He saw from my look of disbelief that we were not going to break bread every afternoon. However, he did not let go. "Well if we don't eat lunch, how about Monday morning breakfast? We can discuss our weekends. And I can tell you about my passion, Habitat for Cats."

"Bill, Monday morning is crunch time for me," I told him. "There's no small talk. My column deadline is Monday at noon. You will be staring at a computer screen checking semi-colons and commas first thing every Monday."

I was confused because I had told Bill that he could do a lot of the work from his home. We would stay in touch via e-mail and phone. I really liked my solitude in the mornings.

Bill did not let go. "What about staff meetings where we get a chance to brainstorm new ideas?"

"We?" I said, wondering when had he been promoted from glorified clerk to syndicated columnist. "Bill, when I was downsized from my last job I promised myself that I would never go to another staff meeting. If you need an hour for creative thoughts, go to the library and browse. I will pay for the hour. We can call it continuing education."

Bill did not look happy, and I am sure neither did I. But I did not want this opportunity to unravel. I needed someone immediately, and I knew he could do the work. I figured I could solve the problem with money. I offered him an extra dollar an hour. He looked pleased. Hopefully no more talk about culture.

He said, "How about making it a $1.25?"

Now that upset me. Here he is doing all this talk about corporate culture when the real issue was always more money. I wanted to say no, but instead I said I would compromise and make it a $1.10. He broke into a big smile, and I forced a smile.

"I need you to start tomorrow." I told him.

He frowned. "Hesh, if we are going to have an open relationship, then I must be honest with you." (I thought to myself that I did not want honesty; I wanted someone who just came to work.)

He continued. "I won't tell you some lie; the truth is that I cannot start tomorrow because it is my birthday. I always have my friends take me out for a sumptuous brunch. Maybe you would like to join me and meet my friends. You'll like them."

I answered back, "Bill, if I wanted to hire someone with whom I wanted a relationship, I would have hired my wife."

And I did. She doesn't need or want to talk to me.

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