He was talking to everyone in the room, which I guess included me, but I had absolutely no idea how to respond.
He left, and other than me, there was only one other woman left. An Asian woman with really cool white and black patent leather shoes.
“Me, too,” the remaining woman said. “I know me. I’m a crier. He will make me cry.”
She packed up her leather billfold, stuffed it in her carrier and scurried out of the lobby.
Now all the chairs were empty and I was still standing. This seemed a little crazy. But surely there had to be more candidates coming in for appointments. Although I’d been here now for at least ten minutes, so maybe I was the last one for the day?
The door opened and Normandy beach dude walked out, pulling at his tie. He looked at me and mouthed silently.
“Good luck.”
Then he smiled, shaking his head, and just like the others, he left.
“Next!”
I let out a breath. There was no next. There was only last.
Me.
I was the last one standing.
I took my cue from the green pantsuit woman. I lifted my chin, threw back my shoulders and walked into the office like I had a clue what I was doing.
Walking into the office like there was a potential for explosions, I stopped and waited for him to look up from his laptop.
His head was down as he was typing furiously. Fingers pounding on the delicate keys like he intended to inflict pain on the piece of equipment. I don’t know what the keyboard did to piss him off, but I gave him a moment to let him work out his anger issues.
The room was sparse. This was supposed to be an ad agency, but there was nothing on the walls that suggested any type of client marketing. Just a desk, two large monitors that swallowed up the man behind them and a guest chair I didn’t dare sit in.
It occurred to me then, I didn’t know his name.
The temp agency had given me the address and not much else, which wasn’t typical, but they’d called me last minute as one of their other candidates had cancelled on them.
I was supposed to be interviewing for a receptionist position, but the people in the lobby all had looked way overqualified.
How much more did I need to know other than how to answer a phone?
I hadn’t seen the man’s face – the one I assumed had been yellingNext– yet. All I could tell from this angle was that he had all his hair. A burnished bronze that had a natural wave to it with some gray at the temples.
Then he lifted his head and I gasped.
I am so not getting this job.
After the initial shock of recognition, the first thing that registered was that he was handsome in artificial overhead lighting.
Not hot. Not someone I’d drool over on TV or something. There was just something classic about his face. High sharp cheekbones, really green eyes. Like a color you could see standing a foot away and have it register in your brain.
Not that his looks mattered. Handsome didn’t work on me.
“No,” he said.
“No, what?”
He sneered. Where half his lip twisted up and it re-arranged his face. Not so handsome now.
“No to you.” He waved his hand at me in a noncommittal gesture that basically saidshoo. It was a generic dismissal and had nothing to do with who I was. Emboldened, I held my ground.
