Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2005 21:08:47 -0700 (PDT)
From: David Briggs <collegeboi74@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Interview

The Interview

By

David Briggs


The alarm sounded at seven in the morning. He laid in bed for a few
minutes allowing himself to come to consciousness. He stumbles out of bed
to shut it off. He walks downstairs to his kitchen to make coffee, being
quiet as not to wake his housemate. His task being done, he takes a
shower being cafeful to make sure he's well scrubbed. He's careful to
shave neatly, avoiding cuts. He pours himself a cup of coffe, and takes
it back to his room. He takes the clothes he carefully chose to wear
today. The clothes are worn, and used. He had to buy them from the
goodwill. Money has never been a luxury he's known. He irons his clothes
with surgeon like precision, making sure there are absolutely no wrinkles
. A quick glance at the bus schedule lets him know there's thirty minutes
before he has to leave. He dresses carefuly as if it's his wedding day.
Hair combed neatly, he leaves the house. The bus driver looks at him with
pity as he pays the fare with a pocket full of nickels and dimes. He
makes it to the interview with a few minutes to spare. He does his best
to look confident. The receptionis looks over her glasses at him as he
enters the waiting room. He's sure she disapproves of his clothing. She
gestures toward a chair with a dismissive hand. He politely thanks her,
and takes a seat. The room feels cold and sterile as he tries to sit
straight. He looks nervously at the resume he made at the library the day
before. The paper, common copy paper, seems terribly plain to him. Still,
he's proud that he taught himself how to write a resume.

"Sir", a voice calls to him. He looks up to see a woman dressed
conservatively in a suit. She has a smile that reminds him of an
infomercial spokesperson. She shakes his hand with all the strength of a
newborn, and the warmth of a corpse. His confidence is running from him
like a man from an angry mob. The lights in the office seem incredibly
harsh. She leads him past the cubicles of the workers. They remind him of
cages at the zoo. The workers trudging through their tasks. A few workers
look up and stare at him as he walks by. The expressions on their faces
begging to be put out of their misery. He's led into a small office.
Generic pictures of of children with disinterested fake smiles plastered
on their faces. She gestures toward a seat, as she sits and smooths her
suit.

She asks if he had any trouble finding the building. He briefly thinks
about asking if she did. He politely assures her that the directions on
the website were sufficient, even though they were off by over 8 miles.
He hands his resume to her, and suggests she review it. He knows his list
of minimum wage jobs don't do much to help his case. He watches her
expression of false friendlyness fade as she reads. She looks up to ask a
series of cookie cutter questions supposed to gague the quality of the
canidate. He answers politely. Asking questions in the appropriate
places. She's watching intently as he answers. He sees that she's seen
his biggest deficiency in getting a job. His teeth are broken and he
tries his best not to show them when he speaks. He sees the look on her
face. She's repulsed, but recovers quickly. Her smile becomes even larger
as she tries to cover her true feelings. "Whell", she says,"we've had a
large number of responses to the position, and were carefully reviewing
all the resumes we receive." He asks a few questions about the position,
and points out his relevant work experience. He knows the interview is
going south. He points out the money that he's saved his former
employers, and his greates work achievements. She listens politely, but
he can tell she wants to get him out of there. He thanks her for her
time, and reminds her that his references are attached to the resume. She
rises and quickly escorts him to the waiting room. He recieves another
cold handshake for his time. As he closes the door on his way out of the
office, he hears the interviewer telling the receptionist, "Oh my god,
his teeth were so bad". He sighs and walks out of the building. He knows
that he's never going to hear from them, but he hopes that noone else
will show for the interview, and he'll get the job by default. He knows
it a silly dream, but stranger things have happened.

He walks down the road to his favorite coffeehouse to get a cup of
coffee. He saved his quarters for this. A luxury for him, a cup of
flavored coffee. The guy behind the counter remembers him from the week
before. He's nice. He wonders if he has a boyfriend. He knows he doesn't
have a chance with him, but he is cute. He pays with his quarters,
dropping a quarter in the tip jar. He says sorry for the change and the
small tip. He genuinely seems ok about it. He sits in the back of the
shop quietly sipping his coffee as if it's going to be his last cup. He
listens to a group of people talking about their day at a nearby table.
There's a guy complaining that he had to wait a whole hour for his new
mercedes to get the oil changed. The guy, maybe five or six years
younger, keeps on complaining about how his luxury items are never in the
right color. He starts taking bigger sips of his coffee. His one luxury
spoiled by a guy who takes his tremendous gifts in life completely for
granted. He finishes his last sip of coffee while standing. He has to get
out of there before he takes a bat to the spoiled guy so he looks like
him. He waves to the cute guy on his way out.

He walks home, in an effort to save some money in the hope that he gets
another interview. He sits down in a chair in his room. He feels exausted
like he's been in a fight. He yawns and his eyes water. the tears keep on
comming as he sits in his chair. His tears carry him off to sleep later
that night as he prepares to do it all over again tomorrow.


End

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