Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Braced for the Interview
Angie shut off the ignition and checked her reflection in the mirror. No lipstick on her teeth. Her hair was in place. She practiced a smile and watched her facial expressions as she introduced herself. The woman in the car mirror looked confident. She was ready for this. She was.
Angie unlatched her seat belt and let it zip back into place. She grabbed her laptop bag and purse and stepped out of the car. A flutter of nerves racked her stomach. Was the laptop bag too much? Would it seem like the prop that it was? Maybe she should leave it in the car. She reached for the handle and started to open the door, then decided against it. If nothing else, it gave her hand something to hold and might abate her sweating palms.
She smoothed her skirt and crossed the street, searching the buildings for the address she'd written down when she was called for an interview. 341 Main Street. The man on the phone said that she would mainly be a receptionist, but that there were some office managerial responsibilities, too, and some straightening up around the office. That all seemed fine to Angie. The main thing she wondered was whether there were benefits. She needed health insurance.
321 Main. 331. The next building must be it. Angie smoothed her skirt again and readjusted the laptop bag whose handle was getting moist in her hand. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the interview. Then she looked up.
Her nerves turned to dread. She felt her skin crawl and resisted the urge to scratch herself. She wasn't sure if she could bring herself to open the door. She didn't want to work here, but she couldn't turn away, either. She needed that health insurance.
Resigned, she pushed against the glass door and walked in.