Wall of Muscle
1072 Words
“My name is Veronica Smithers. I’m Mr. Whitaker’s personal assistant. I do most everything for him. It is important that whomever fills this position realizes that it isn’t just about answering phones and sending correspondence. You may be asked to perform any sort of task throughout the day, some you could easily think of, such as making coffee or running to the nearest coffeeshop. Others may never cross your mind until the question is raised.” Veronica turned and looked at her, and Mia nodded, feeling pricks of ice radiate through her veins as she attempted to decipher what that might mean.
They were walking through a vast space of cubicles and offices with people working in groups, pairs, and all alone, but Mia was struggling to keep up with Veronica and hardly had a chance to look around her. Eventually, they reached a small office, and Veronica walked in, stepping behind an organized desk with a huge stack of papers on it. She gestured for Mia to take a seat, which she did, and that’s when she realized the papers were all resumes.
Veronica thrust her hand foreword, clearly wanting something. Still stunned by the enormous stack of applicants, Mia was confused. She looked at Veronica’s open palm and then up to her eyes. “Resume?” the woman said, practically rolling her eyes at her.
“Of course. I apologize. I’m a little nervous.” Mia fumbled for the zipper on the side of her leather portfolio case. It snagged, stuck, and nearly broke. She took a deep breath, tried to smile, and tried again, catching her nail and ripping it. The sting wasn’t as bad as the embarrassment. Veronica was growing impatient.
The third try was the charm; she managed to get her portfolio open and work the single page resume out, handing it over with what she hoped was a confident smile. Compared to the page on the top of the stack, it looked as if Mia had never worked before. The other girl’s resume was nearly full and looked well-organized. Mia had put hers together the afternoon before in the library and printed it for ten cents on the high quality library copy paper.
It only took Veronica a moment to look over the resume. She sat it aside. “What are your strengths?”
“Well, I, uh… love marketing,” Mia began, smiling and hoping she could get her nerves under control. “I studied it in college. I’m a hard worker. I’m always pleasant. Easy to get along with.”
“Uh huh. And other than your complete lack of any work experience even remotely related to the secretarial field, what are your weaknesses?”
Doing her best to disregard the low blow, Mia kept her smile in place. “I am very trusting, which is sometimes seen as gullible,” she admitted. “I do have a bit of a problem with distractions from time to time, though it’s nothing I can’t work through.” She looked Veronica in the eyes and knew there was no way she was getting this job. Mia blew out a long breath. “But… as you mentioned, I’ve never done secretarial work before. I can type fast and accurately. I’m very friendly on the phone, and I’m willing to learn.”
“I take it you’d finished answering my question about your weaknesses before that last part.”
Veronica looked annoyed that Mia had strayed from her initial question. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize.”
“Uh huh,” the woman said, still scowling. Her eyes flickered down the resume again, but then she looked back at Mia, seeming to study her. “If you were to get the position, when could you start?”
“Right away,” Mia said with a confident nod. “I just moved here, so I don’t have a job yet—”
Veronica didn’t care. “And you understand that the salary is base plus bonuses you may earn for taking on additional tasks and for performance that Mr. Whitaker deems above and beyond?”
“Yes, Ms. Smithers,” she said with a nod. The salary, even with no bonuses, was enough for her to pay her rent, as well as her other bills, and still put some money back each month.
Ms. Smithers cleared her throat and picked up the telephone next to her elbow. She punched the top number and waited a second. Mia wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed odd she’d be calling someone in the middle of her interview.
Though she couldn’t make out what was being said, it was clear a male’s voice was speaking on the other end of the phone. It was a deep tenor, raspy, gravelly. Mia crossed her legs and tried not to twist her long black hair around her finger.
“Yes. Thank you,” Veronica said and hung up the phone. “You may go.”
Mia was shocked at such a quick dismissal. Granted, she’d seen the other women coming and going so quickly, she’d been shocked Veronica had kept her this long.
“Please, Ms. Smithers, if you give me a chance—”
“You. May. Go!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Realizing there was nothing else she could do, Mia gathered her bag and tucked her portfolio under her arm, half wishing she could ask for her resume back so she wouldn’t have to waste another dime getting a new one for her next interview. Clearly, this one would wither away in that immense stack of papers for a few days before it died a horrible death in the shredder. “Thank you for your time.”
Veronica only nodded, and Mia got up, headed back the way she came. The only problem was, she had no idea how she got there. Since Veronica had not followed her out, she didn’t know which direction to turn. She went down a hall, thinking maybe it was that way, but that ended up at a dead end. She turned back around and went the other direction, thinking she’d just ask someone when she ran right into a solid wall of muscle.
“Are you lost?”
Mia looked up into bright blue eyes, and all the breath left her lungs as she stammered for an answer. If she wasn’t lost before, she was now.
- Writer
