12
Becca
“What about this one? How do I look in this?” I asked.
I did a couple of spins, holding my arms out to the side so Melissa could get the full view of the outfit I chose. She was lying on her back on my bed, her head dangling over the end.
“That one looks good, too,” she said.
I let out an exasperated sound. “You’re looking at me upside down. Come on, this is serious.”
Melissa flipped back over onto her stomach and scrutinized the navy-blue pantsuit and matching pumps I thought made me look professional.
The way her expression twisted up in her head tilted to the side told me she wasn’t quite as on board as I was.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
I looked down at my clothes, then back at her. “What’s wrong with it? I think it looks really put together and adult.”
“Maybe if you were a really put-together adult in a late-nineties movie about the ravages of corporate America,” she said.
“Wow. Harsh.” I sighed and kicked off my shoes, heading over to the closet to find the next potential option.
“Becca listen to me. You’re going for an interview. You want to look nice, but you don’t have to stress this much. Just be yourself,” Melissa said.
“Did Mr. Rogers teach you that?” I asked.
“Yes, he did.”
“He was a good one,” I said.
“Thank God for YouTube,” she said. “Now, let’s find you something that makes you look like an actual person rather than a Women’s Network movie lead about to either be a mistress or a corpse. Come on.”
Two hours later, I was in my Melissa-approved interview outfit, my hair and makeup done and feeling a somewhat stomach-turning combination of excited, nervous, optimistic, and scared out of my mind.
I walked into the therapist’s office for my interview. I expected a receptionist to be the one to greet me and tell me to sit and wait, but a pretty woman with a bright smile I recognized from my research immediately came out from the back of the office and extended a hand toward me.
“Delia Flores,” she said. “You must be Becca.”
I nodded, taking her hand and shaking it. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Do you want to come back and we’ll talk?” She pointed behind her toward an office. I was glad Melissa talked me out of the stuffy suit and I’d chosen a dress instead. It fit the atmosphere and the personality of the woman I was hoping would choose me to work with her.
We sat down, and she started asking questions. It didn’t feel like an interview. Instead, it was more like we had just met while riding the subway or waiting in line at the grocery store and gotten into a conversation. As it continued, the questions got more personal, and she veered into issues that had to do with the position. But even those felt comfortable without pressure.
The interview went so well, I didn’t even want it to end. I wanted to get coffee and spend the afternoon chatting and getting to know each other. She was so nice, I almost forgot I was supposed to be professional. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she was still smiling by the time she stood up and reached for my hand again, so I figured that probably wasn’t bad.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming in.”
“Thank you for having me. It was great.” I cringed inwardly and left.
As soon as I got in the car, I called Melissa.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Well, I ended it like we were on a first date.”
“You kissed her?” Melissa asked.
“No,” I said with exasperation. “I just thanked her for having me and told her it was great.”
“That’s awkward.”
“I know. But she didn’t cringe. I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“Did she give you any indication?” Melissa asked.
“No. She said she would be in touch. I’m guessing there are plenty of other people applying for that position. Hopefully it doesn’t take too long to hear.”
“Well, keep me updated. I’ve got to get back to work,” Melissa said.
A while later, the route to bring me back home took me right past Tyler’s bar. I slid into the first spot I saw and got out. They were just opening up as I walked up to the door. Getting some food and maybe a drink sounded good right then. I definitely didn’t want to head home yet. It had been a stressful day, and just thinking about the interview brought all the nerves back.
I walked in and found Tyler behind the bar getting set up for the night. He grinned at me as I climbed up onto one of the stools in front of him.
“You look like a woman who’s had a day,” he said.