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8:57 am. Dabbing at my forehead with a tissue, praying my application and resume aren't stuck together with sweat.
"Mr. Wall." It wasn't a question.
"Uhm, yes, that's me, how did--"
"Your papers, please. ID, please. Second? Very good. Have a seat; we will be with you shortly."
Black rimmed glasses, crisp black two-piece suit. Brown hair tightly, perfectly arranged. May have been an attractive 30-ish lady behind them. Or an automaton.
Efficient vinyl seats. Grimy fingerprinted newspaper haphazardly discarded on the adjacent table. Walls a pale yellow-white that would almost not have been out of style decades ago. Slight flaking.
Chose the chair directly under the air vent, maybe it'll keep my pit stains from becoming any darker.
Out of habit, I glanced through the paper. Much thinner than I remember the daily being, not that I read it much. No national section. No sports section. Comics all repeats.
At 9:05, an angel walked past me. At least, I think one did. Admittedly I was more than a little distracted (what with my survival dependent upon this interview) but I'm pretty sure the person who left with an unreturned 'Thank you!' tossed to the secretary was a startlingly cute woman. Slim, petite, moving quickly but not hurried or hassled.
She didn't notice me, which is just as well. I'm bad enough with small talk as it is. The current environment would have been murderous.
"Mr. Wall, your interview is now. Please enter."
And so I did.
"Mr. Wall! A pleasure!" Extended hand, peppery hair. Welcoming smile. Fit enough to show he had the drive to take care of himself, thick enough to show he could afford to enjoy the occasional decadence. Only thing missing was a cigar.
"Have a seat. Son, you look pale, have you been eating alright?"
"Er, well..."
"I guess not! Here." The secretary walked in with coffee and a deli tray, before disappearing without a word.
"Please, help yourself Mr. Wall. I want to get to know you at your best, right?" He smiled, and I had a moment to take in my surroundings.
Mahogany. The color, the matieral. Looked like a medium-sized board or meeting room, with far more plush leather chairs than were necessary for the interview. Projection screen at one end. I sat on one end of the lengthy table, with Mr....
"I'm sorry, I didn't even give you my name." Sip of coffee. "I'm James Welsh."
...with Mr. Welsh sitting directly across from me. I fought with myself not to load my plate with half of the tray. My stomach growled with every cube of cheese, every slice of deli meat I took.
After a minute, we got started.
The interview was standard fare. What are your best qualities? Your worst? Give an example of when you went the extra mile. Please be specific. What would your last employer have to say about you? Then came the real question.
Mr. Welsh clasped his hands in front of himself and leaned forward, looking intently at me.
"Mr. Wall. How persuasive are you?"
"Fairly so, I guess. I have little trouble getting others to understand my side of the story."
"Ah, but how good are you at getting them to believe your side?"
I paused, looking up, thinking.
"Mr. Wall. I want the rest of that tray of food. It is delicious, and such a tray is far more expensive nowadays than it used to be. I may very well be your future boss. My happiness, my fullness, my very well-being is, for all intents and purposes, more important than yours."
He paused.
"Keeping all this in mind, convince me that you should have the rest of this tray."
After a minute, I started. Three minutes of me talking and him nodding passed.
Slowly, he reached, took a cube of cheese, and chewed on it slowly, seeming to consider something. The secretary entered.
"Mr. Wall, your interview has concluded. We will be in contact with you shortly."
I stood and thanked them both for their time. Neither seemed to notice.
I have no idea what to think. Someone tell me this is a good sign?
Please?
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