Noun
A female interviewer.
Usage- Rare
- Examples
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More examples (5)
—Senator Sumner has been pleasantly interviewed by “Olivia,” of the Philadelphia Press, about celebrities whom he met abroad in years gone by. The intervieweress asked him, “Will a woman of good judgment marry a man fifteen years younger than herself?” To which Mr. Sumner replied: “I shall have to refer you to Mr. Disraell. I know that to have been a very happy marriage.[…]”
When she got through with us, which she did in about half a second, as if we were so many seats in a house, not to be discriminated, he stayed chatting with Make and me, till some friends of his came up; Make told me afterwards they were the Van der Doeses, which means something supernal here. Miss Hally, the chief intervieweress of The Signal bowed to us from a distance, and he asked very eagerly who she was.
Miss Dunbar now loomed on the horizon, and the intervieweress decided to waylay her for further information. “What kind of stuff do I like best in your paper? Well I thought it was about time you asked me for advice. Put in more jokes. Describe some of the teachers when they take their gym lesson. That’l get some laughs. I look a sight in mine.” Miss Dunbar absent-mindedly walks off without a word of farewell. She had forgotten that she was being interviewed.
Father Bonn’s parting remark was “Thanks for being such good intervieweresses—or is it interviewerines? Anyway, best wishes to everyone from this repulsive old man.” But those of us who eagerly look forward to the play competition which he judges, know better than to agree with this self-description, do we not?
Yasnaya Polyana 5/12/70 / Dear Bill, / […] And if my letter seems unfeeling, please let me tell you why I am in mine anaesthetic stage. A student-type turned up yestiddy, to interview me. (In view of my notorious prowess as a rapist, she brought a girl-friend along to protect her.) I yiped for three hours—and bejeez, I slept all night sans pillulation. But when I did get up, I was beside myself. It was horrible—for now I had lost Libbie, the house, and myself. I usually talk to myself, but now I heard myself talking to myself (and there’s one hell of a difference). I think I have figured it all out. And now, after about five hours of effort, I think I am at least on the slope of the subpersonality that I think of as really me. But I had to use some alky as a bridge towards the way back. To cut a lot of corners, I think the tangle turned up thus: My intervieweress was so clearly a student-type, I talked to her as with a student at Bennington, or someone else along the academic circuit. […] / Sincerely, / K.B.
[…] television lady intervieweress, who in certain Greek newspapers, […]