Liar Liar

‘I have wonderful news, Miss Ryan.’ The woman’s forty-a-day voice brings me back to the moment in a snap. ‘A position has just become available, and after viewing your interview, our client would like to go ahead and offer you the job.’

‘That’s . . . that’s . . . wonderful.’ And as well as so, so strange. ‘When would they like to interview me?’’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that. The position is yours. Isn’t that wonderful?’ she gushes. Yes, gushes. The woman who gave zero fucks when I called to explain what happened during my so-called interview. It wasn’t even an interview for an advertised job but an interview to get me on their books, so to speak. And now this?

‘Yes. Wonderful,’ I answer haltingly. ‘But isn’t it also a little,’ weird, whacky, not to mention downright, ‘strange?’

‘It is a little unorthodox,’ she demurs, ‘but hardly unprecedented.’

‘My interview recording was a disaster.’ I rub the heel of my palm against my eye, not quite believing I’m bringing this up right now.

‘Well, what can I say?’ she replies, not bothering to hide her annoyance. ‘They must’ve seen the funny side as well as being impressed with what else you had to say.’

‘I find it hard to believe you sent it to them.’ Especially after not responding to my botched interview. Right now, the competition is pretty fierce in the current job market, as I’ve found since coming home. Surely, they must have had better interviews than mine.

‘Do you want to hear about this job or not? Because I’m sure there are lots of other candidates who would receive this news with much more grace.’

Grace; the thing Southern women are supposed to have an abundance of. That’s the whole cat born in the stable thing again. But hell, what am I doing?

‘No, of course I’m interested!’ I begin, hitting reverse. ‘I suppose this has all just come as a shock. I mean, like a wonderful shock. A surprise, in fact!’

‘There are more surprises to come,’ she adds, a touch inscrutably. And then she mentions a figure that causes me to curse, though I have the decorum to do so silently.

‘That’s . . . that’s the whole package, though, right? The figure? It includes all benefits.’ Because ho-lee-hell, that is a lot of money. More money than I ever dreamed I’d earn.

‘Oh, my dear, not at all. That is the figure of your base salary only.’

My eyes are as wide as saucers in the dresser mirror as she goes on to explain the scope of the position, the opportunities for promotion, and how, with my experience, I’m a great fit for the team.

‘My experience?’ I halt my happy dance mid-hop. What experience? The fact that I work in a strip joint? That I serve drinks to men with grabby hands and an obsession for shoving dollar bills between my tits? Amber has a theory. She thinks it’s because they want to shove other things there. And she doesn’t mean Legos.

‘Yes. The fact that you worked for Riposo Estates in Australia is of particular interest to them. You began in the vineyard and worked your way to the hospitality arm of the business, according to your resumé.’

My highly inflated resumé that I know Amber and Byron (and their HR team) will help me pull off. I picked grapes, waited tables, and worked the cellar door. None of it was groundbreaking career stuff, but I’m not about to admit so now.

‘Ah, yes, well. The Phillips team believe that in order to understand the wine, you have to have an understanding of the land. They take a . . . holistic approach to education and employment.’

Please don’t ask me what that means.

‘I believe you also worked as a trainee manager in a motel chain after graduating college.’ She says “motel” as I imagine she would say “used condom”.

‘Yes, I did. Well, a mid-priced hotel chain, actually.’ Slave labour by any other name is just the same.

‘And now you work in hospitality as a waitress, I believe.’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’ If you look at it through cataracts. I might have also fudged my resumé a little here by listing the name of the holding company that owns the club, rather than the club itself. I also didn’t include their details under the reference section.

But really, who is going to admit to working in a strip joint while looking for a corporate position?

Yes, I was vice president of the booty shorts, and my boobs are boner-fide marketing materials.

‘Wonderful. Well, when can you come in and sign the paperwork for your visa and such?’

‘Visa?’

‘You did say you were willing to relocate for a position.’

‘Well, yeah but, as I understood, you deal with employment here in the States.’

‘Goodness, no. ESR is an American subsidiary of a worldwide company. In fact, our headquarters are in France.’