Wednesday, January 19, 2011


Teeth are clear. Hair is in place. Tie is straight. Hands are dry.

Steve took one last look at himself in the mirror, and he was ready. Well, as ready as he was going to be. He slowly unlatched the lock on the bathroom door, and walked out of the Starbucks – making sure to look both ways as he crossed the street and entered the building lobby. A quick show of identification to the security guard on duty, and he was ready to board the elevator. The ride to the thirty-fifth floor was a lot faster than he had anticipated. In a matter of seconds, the doors opened, and he was at the reception.

“Hi. My name is Steve Howard, and I have an appointment with Cindy Long at ten.”

“Have a seat and she’ll be right with you. “


Impressive office. Bright and airy, and all these modernist touches, he thought. The life-size Darth Vader sure didn’t do anything to detract from the cool factor. Who put a life-size Darth Vader figurine next to reception anyway? What kind of an office was this? Anyway, what did it matter? He was here for an interview, and he needed a job. Any job. Times are tough and this was the only interview he could get after six weeks of sending resumes non-stop. The bloodletting had to end, and it better end today.

"Steve? Hi, I'm Jen, Cindy's assistant. She's ready for you now. Would you follow me?"

"Great. Thanks. Impressive office by the way"

" Yeah, our CEO is a huge architecture buff and designed everything himself."


"Here we are. This is the CEO's office, but he's out this week. Have a seat and she will be right with you. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thanks."

It was the most impressive office that Steve had ever laid eyes on. It was easily bigger than his apartment, and it was a true corner office with a view of Central Park. Central Park! Damn. Must be nice to walk in to this every morning. The opposite side of the office was dominated by floor to ceiling mirrors. It reflected that same magnificent view of Central Park, only it had a wood bar across the middle. That was odd, he thought. Wait a minute, those are ballet bars. What is going on here?

He took a quick look at the door. Well, there were two doors. One from each corner of the office. Two entrances. That was a first for him. Both had a sleek metal disc that looked like a giant stainless steel frisbee affixed on the mirrored wall. And in between those two doors was what appeared to be a hidden panel. I wonder what was behind that, he curiously wondered. Well, no one was around. Steve got up and two the three quick steps towards the panel and gave it a slight push. The hinge creaked a little, and with the small opening, a hidden secret was revealed. A bathroom. The guy has his own personal bathroom. Now that is cooler still. Of course, the ballet bar is still there, but hey, no one is perfect.

Quickly, he pulled the door shut, and sat back into the Wassily chair. Mental note. Make a point to mention that he likes the Wassily chair. That design history class really came in handy - who was the designer again? What else do I say other than the view and the chair? He started to make a list of all the points of interest in the room. View, mirrors - wait was that too obvious? Scratch the mirrors. Chair, the Noguchi coffee table. The awards. That was it really right? Right. Not too much. He was there to talk job not design.

More minutes passed. Still no interviewer. This is strange. Why hasn't anyone come in? Slowly he began to let his mind loose. Is there a camera in here? Are they watching me? His eyes darted around every corner of the room. No, protuding lenses. The computer? Screen's not pointed at him. Teddy Bear-cam? Hidden between the awards and the books? Not that he could tell from his seat five yards away. Ok. Now he was starting to sweat. He could feel the dams slowly opening and the deodorant was kicking in. His palms no longer dry. This was stupid. I'm here for an interview not Punk'd. Still more time was passing, and every second brought another morsel of panic.

A good twenty minutes later, he heard footsteps. Mercy.

It was Jen.

"Steve? I'm sorry but Cindy can't make it today."

"Oh, ok. Should I come back later today or should I reschedule for later in the week?" He really needed the job.

"Um. I don't think she'll be available any time soon. But let me check and see what is possible."

"I'm sorry. Wait. What do you mean what's possible? So, I'm not getting the interview?"

"Well, Cindy just went into labor, and she's going to be on maternity leave. I'm not sure what her plans are for the position, and I'm going to have to get back to you."


"I'm sorry, she's early."


"Here's my card. Why don't you e-mail me tomorrow, and I will see if I have an answer for you."

"Oh. Ok. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then." Repeating her instructions because fog had moved in.

"Let me walk you out"

"Thanks. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then."

"I'm so sorry"

"It's ok. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then. Thanks."

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