Thursday, October 3, 2013

The Interview

The Interview

 Take a deep breath, relax, and think happy thoughts—Picture yourself on a beach somewhere.
Advice is plentiful. The giver is a paramedic, perhaps I should obey.
Okay. Let’s do this. You can do this. Get a grip.
You’re here for the interview, right? Well, I don’t know what time you were told—
What time I was told? 10:30. It’s only 10:20 now. Did I miss it?
But what I have listed for you doesn’t match that.
I figure it’ll be at least 15 to 20 minutes. If you want to go back to your class, I’ll do an all-call for you.
No, thanks, I never hear them. I’ll just wait here.
My heart is thumping in my chest, climbing into my throat.
Since you’re already an employee here, I don’t think you’ll need to give us your fingerprints.
Well, that’s a relief. Part time for two years has some perks, then. Do I get out of training, too?
Way to pick the interview time just before lunch, man.
Hunger AND nerves; what a combo. At least there’s nothing to smell here but plants and plastic chairs.
Sit. Wait. Listen to office gossip.
Not enough small talk to bridge the gap. Waiting. Waiting.
Mr. MacDonald? I apologize for the wait. Would you come this way, please?
The greeting feels odd, forced, disingenuous somehow. It’s all for show.
Why did she just call this a formality?
These same people interviewed me two years ago; I’ve been working with them.
Thirty minutes later, I’m out the door.
How did it go? When will they tell you?
Really well, I guess. They said I’d know in a few weeks.
What’s for lunch?



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