Slice of Write

stories & jibber-jabber

I arrived at the office building about thirty minutes prior to my interview.  Perfect.  I have time to freshen up, look over my resume again, and mentally prepare.  Fifteen minutes before the interview, I take another sip of water, check my makeup in the visor mirror for the 85th time, and open my car door.  I suddenly realize my car key fob is missing.  Dammit!  I have done this twice since I bought this car a few months ago.  I try to remember to put it in the cup holder for safe keeping, but sometimes, when I’m in a hurry, that doesn’t always happen.  It’s a used car, but it’s only a couple of years old.  My previous vehicle was a 2002 and had absolutely no technology hinderances at all.  I was able to manually roll-up my windows, throw six cds into the disc changer, and, most importantly, I had an actual key!  Two minutes later, I feel my face is flushed, I’m out of breath, knees on the pavement, frantically searching under the passenger seat – where I found it last time.  I rush back over to the driver side to check again, trying not to open my car door too wide, and smack the brand-new Mercedes next to me.  Ten minutes until the interview.  This is it.  Now or never.  I check between the console and my seat one more time.  I shove my hand into that weird black hole of a space between the seat and the console, and feel what I can only imagine are some old jellybeans and pieces of hardened french fries.  I have a tendency to eat in my car and, albeit, I can be a bit of a messy eater.  Okay, I am a super messy eater and usually end up spilling stuff all over the place, but that’s my business.  My fiancé is always on my case about keeping the car clean.  I do keep it clean.  I don’t have trash, boxes of crap, or empty water bottles all over the place.  It’s mostly just food crumbs and some very light soda and/or coffee stains here and there on the seats and floor.  I suddenly felt the cold, heartless key fob in my fingers.  I carefully bring it back to the land of the living, but then it fell back down into the abyss.  Yikes!  I carefully shove my hand back into the crevice.  “C’mon you little jerk,” I mumble to the key fob.  I feel the key fob again and manage to kidnap it from its sanctuary.  I frantically jump out of my car and look down at myself, searching for any unexpected dirt stains on my suit.  Four minutes until my interview.  I slam the car door and hit the fob to lock it.  I elegantly sprint from the parking lot to the building.  On my way, I throw the annoying key fob into my purse.  I’m sure after my interview he’ll be hiding at the bottom of my bag, and it will take me anywhere from three to five minutes to find him again.  He thinks it’s a game.  Unfortunately, it is, and he seems to always win.  I check the time as I frantically push myself into the elevator with ten of my new best friends.  One minute to my interview.

2 thoughts on “The Interview

  1. Randall Wirtz says:

    Slice of an interview. Well done. Thank-you!

    1. saidnell says:

      Thank you!

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