The hottie shifts to avoid the glare of the afternoon sun, which is now blinding both of his eyes.
“Please tell us about a tough period in your career,” the bald man in the middle asks.
Ah, finally, a reasonable question!I researched it on the train. I’m supposed to talk about a time when my boss introduced some challenging new thing, like a complicated piece of software or a new machine, and I hated it. So, I balked at first, but then I pulled myself together and mastered it in no time.
But instead, and in keeping with my uncalled-for honesty when answering the previous questions, I say, “It was two days ago when my boss gave me the boot.”
“Why did they fire you?” the bald man asks.
I should lie. If there has ever been a time in my life when I should not speak the truth, then this is it. “Because I called him every name in the book.”
Damn, Lucie!
“Why did you do that?” the silver-haired woman asks.
“Because he deserved it.”
The panel members exchange meaningful looks.
Congratulations, Mademoiselle Laborde!They will never, ever hire you.
The eye-candy man picks up the yellow folder in front of him and holds it up with one hand to shield against the ray of sunlight. The contents of the folder slip out and scatter across the floor. As he dives for the papers, the folder goes flying up.
“Let’s talk about your long-term and short-term life goals,” a stocky man says. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
OK, focus, Lucie!
This is my last chance. Forget about honesty. Give them the answer they expect from an applicant who isn’t too dumb to live.
I school my features into a serene expression. “I hope to be doing something in the field of neat and diligent heritage conservation, building upon the experience I will hopefully acquire at MINDFUCH, if you hire me.”
Well done!
“What about a year from now?” he asks.
“I see myself at MINDFUCH,” I say brightly. “Your organization is such a perfect fit for my skills that I would love to stay on and grow within it.”
Phew.I feel drained from so much effort to say what I think they think I should say. Let’s hope they’re done with this line of questioning.
“Where do you see yourself in an hour from now, when you walk out of this room?” the stocky man asks.
Oh no! They plan to keep at it for another hour?
“Um…” I wince apologetically. “I see myself in the restroom if possible.”
Am I the only one around this table hearing the call of nature?
There’s a noise that sounds like a suppressed laughfrom Mr. Handsome’s end. The gap in the blanket of clouds has grown bigger, the sunray stronger, and the room warmer.
Placing his folder on the table for a moment, he removes his million-euro jacket and his silk Hermès tie.
Ooh-la-la!
I nearly whistle at the sight of his V-shaped, muscular-yet-lean upper body. In his crisp white shirt and slate pants, his hair dark and his eyes blue, the man is graceful like a big cat, suave and much too sexy to be allowed anywhere near an interview panel.
He whispers something in the silver-haired woman’s ear, who then leans over to the stocky guy and whispers in his ear. They continue their “telephone game” until the last remaining pair of ears has been made privy to whatever the hottie said.
The silver-haired woman shuts her laptop. “We won’t torture you any longer, Mademoiselle Laborde. You’re hired.”
