Stephanie Zabinski
Writing I
“The Interview”
I drummed my fingers impatiently on the table beside me as I stared at the clock. Seconds dragged on for hours, and a minute felt like half a day. I was excited and restless as I sat in the lobby of what could be called the biggest gaming corporation in the world. I tore my eyes from the clock to glance at the calendar on the table. September 20, 2016, it read. The big day of the interview, I thought to myself. Indeed, it was.
Today was the day I was scheduled for an interview to apply for the job of my dreams. Years of college and training in computer programming had led me to this opportunity, and in ten minutes, I would have my first chance to make it happen.
I wanted to get up and pace, but I knew that appearance played a major part in acceptance, so I kept my cool. The minutes dragged on, the silence of the room becoming oppressive as the clock ticked half-time to the sound of my wildly beating heart.
Finally, just as I was reaching for a random magazine I hadn’t noticed before under the table, I heard a male voice call my name.
“Miss Zabinski?”
I looked up to see a pretty cute guy with short blonde hair and wire-rim glasses that really accentuated gorgeous blue eyes holding a clipboard looking at me from the doorway. I didn’t even flinch as I studied him with approval. I stood, and crossed the room. He looked about my age, though I’d had enough bad luck with guys in the past couple decades that I figured I didn’t even have a chance, even though a quick scan of his left hand revealed no wedding band. I found that surprising.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said. “Call me Steph, though…”
He smiled. “Alright, then. Can you come with me?”
“Sure.” I crossed the room and followed him through a short series of hallways and into another room. The walls here were a dark wine color, and the floor was a cream carpet, unlike the cold white walls and black tile of the lobby.
The guy didn’t leave, but he gestured to me to take a seat in a black and silver, futuristic-looking chair in the middle of the room, facing a desk near the far wall with another futuristic chair behind it. A polished silver plaque with thin black lettering engraved into it read “Jason Wilder.” The room was devoid of life save for the two of us.
I headed to the chair offered to me, and turned back to look at the guy.
“Alright…so where’s the interviewer?” I asked, sitting.
“You’re looking at him. I’m Jason Wilder,” he replied, crossing the room to sit in the chair behind the desk. “You can call me Jason, or Jay.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s not bad.” I laughed softly. “And here I thought I was going to be grilled by this ex-military sergeant or something,” I said, grinning.
Jason laughed, and I felt a little better. At least these guys have a sense of humor, I thought to myself. Hopefully it’s not just Jay.
“Nah, we don’t like to chase people off,” Jay said. “So they send me.”
I can see why, I thought. Out loud, I said, “You sound thrilled.”
Jason blinked. “N-no!“ he said, sounding slightly flustered. “It’s not that I don’t like meeting people…” He smiled in an attempt to cover it up. “’S just that I’ve got the wonderful job of telling some people that they didn’t get their job. I hate doing that…It makes me feel bad.”
Cute and has a conscience, I thought, catching myself smiling back. “Well, don’t worry…I promise I won’t cry over the phone to you if I don’t get this job.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m not good enough?” I demanded.
Another flustered look. “N-no, I meant--”
I laughed. “Don’t worry…I’m kidding!” I said.
Wonder if he’s this afraid of offending everyone...I watched him in amusement.
He coughed awkwardly, his face reddening. “So, um…Shall we start the interview?” he asked.
“Sure.”
And so we talked. He asked questions, I answered them. I found that he was a generally amiable person, and wasn’t really afraid of offending other people. Not that he did, but it’s was just that he usually didn’t.
He mellowed out and I relaxed a lot, too as the interview progressed. It took maybe an hour and a half, what with all the side-conversations we kept getting lost in and having to pull ourselves back from.
The more we talked, the more I started to like him, and by the time the interview was over, I was getting nervous. He was head of the department I was applying for a job in, and if I had to work with him…well…I don’t think I could. It would be really hard to be with a guy I liked, yet figured I had no chance at. Thank-you, low self-esteem.
I thanked him as we finished the interview, and we shook hands. He escorted me out through the corridors we’d entered an hour and a half earlier, and bid me farewell.
“I’ll call you in a day or so to tell you if when you’ve gotten the job,” he said.
“You mean
if?” I corrected, but he shook his head.
“Doubt it. You seem to have all the right qualities we need,” he said, smiling.
“Thanks,” I said. He nodded, and I left the building.
I had a feeling he was watching me leave, and it was confirmed when I turned to get into my car and saw him pretend to be studying something on his clipboard. In the window. He peeked up and I had the nerve to wave at him. He waved back.
I smiled, got into my car, and took off.