of the financial advising teams downstairs, who would be more than able to answer his question, and then go ask the client waiting for the meeting if there’s anything I can do for him while your secretary checks to see if you’re in your office and ready to accept clients.”
It was, admittedly, a good answer. “How are you at multi-tasking?”
“I’ve actually done a lot of reading on that and the consensus seems to be that multi-tasking actually makes people less efficient because you can’t give your full concentration to anything, so I try to focus on one thing at a time and do it as well and as quickly as possible.”
He wasn’t stupid, Alex had to give him that. “One more thing. I have a time-sensitive document – physical – that I need from a business across town before the end of the day. How would you deliver it?”
“I’d have them fax it, Mr. Reid.”
Alex did not have time to point out the lack of a fax machine in his office, though he would have liked to, if only to see the look on Mr. Blake’s face; a light knock on the door cut off any further conversation before it could begin.
“Come in, please, Ms. Campbell,” Alex said.
The secretary stepped into the room, glancing at the man sitting across from Alex with something like disdain in her expression. She must have finished her research, then. Alex smiled.
“The documents you wanted, Mr. Reid,” she said.
“Bring them here and set them on the desk, would you?”
He saw the flash of alarm cross Mr. Blake’s face. A quick study, then. Ms. Campbell set the documents she’d printed down on the corner of the desk and stepped back out again.
Alex made a show of picking the papers up and rifling slowly through them, raising his eyebrows at various bits of information contained in them, though none of it actually surprised him. “So,” he said, laying the papers down again and looking directly across at the man he was interviewing. “It seems you’ve padded your résumé a bit.”
A bit was something of an understatement.
“Would you like to explain how that came to be, Mr. Blake?”
He watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed past a throat that must suddenly feel very tight.
“Well. I actually was a busboy at the Ritz-Carlton. And then a front desk clerk. But I never made it to concierge. I just said that so that I could get jobs as a personal assistant. The first one I interviewed for was one of the only jobs in the area where I was trying to get work, and I really needed it.” He set his hands palm-up on the desk like he might reach across it in supplication if he thought it would do any good. “I really need this job, too, Mr. Reid. I’m not lying about that.”
“Three personal assistant jobs in four years. That one is true. But it’s not a very encouraging statistic. Most people who find a good personal assistant refuse to let them go so soon, if at all.”
“My first couple attempts weren’t quite as good as my employers wanted them to be. But I got better each time. I’m a quick study.”
“I’m sure you are,” Alex said, voice dry. “But I really don’t see why I should give any kind of job to a man who fudged his résumé and lied about his experience to more than one employer, let alone something as high in the hierarchy of my business as a personal assistant. For all I know, those aren’t the only things you’re lying about. You could be a corporate spy. Or a con man who just wants access to the company’s internal computer network.”
“I swear I’m not.” Mr. Blake leaned forward over the edge of the desk. “Look. Just give me a chance. Probationary. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
Alex considered the option. It wasn’t entirely without merit, he supposed, though it was a little like taking a badly-behaved dog in and hoping it wouldn’t bite you. Most people didn’t change their behavior overnight. Most people didn’t change their behavior at all; they didn’t have
It was, admittedly, a good answer. “How are you at multi-tasking?”
“I’ve actually done a lot of reading on that and the consensus seems to be that multi-tasking actually makes people less efficient because you can’t give your full concentration to anything, so I try to focus on one thing at a time and do it as well and as quickly as possible.”
He wasn’t stupid, Alex had to give him that. “One more thing. I have a time-sensitive document – physical – that I need from a business across town before the end of the day. How would you deliver it?”
“I’d have them fax it, Mr. Reid.”
Alex did not have time to point out the lack of a fax machine in his office, though he would have liked to, if only to see the look on Mr. Blake’s face; a light knock on the door cut off any further conversation before it could begin.
“Come in, please, Ms. Campbell,” Alex said.
The secretary stepped into the room, glancing at the man sitting across from Alex with something like disdain in her expression. She must have finished her research, then. Alex smiled.
“The documents you wanted, Mr. Reid,” she said.
“Bring them here and set them on the desk, would you?”
He saw the flash of alarm cross Mr. Blake’s face. A quick study, then. Ms. Campbell set the documents she’d printed down on the corner of the desk and stepped back out again.
Alex made a show of picking the papers up and rifling slowly through them, raising his eyebrows at various bits of information contained in them, though none of it actually surprised him. “So,” he said, laying the papers down again and looking directly across at the man he was interviewing. “It seems you’ve padded your résumé a bit.”
A bit was something of an understatement.
“Would you like to explain how that came to be, Mr. Blake?”
He watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed past a throat that must suddenly feel very tight.
“Well. I actually was a busboy at the Ritz-Carlton. And then a front desk clerk. But I never made it to concierge. I just said that so that I could get jobs as a personal assistant. The first one I interviewed for was one of the only jobs in the area where I was trying to get work, and I really needed it.” He set his hands palm-up on the desk like he might reach across it in supplication if he thought it would do any good. “I really need this job, too, Mr. Reid. I’m not lying about that.”
“Three personal assistant jobs in four years. That one is true. But it’s not a very encouraging statistic. Most people who find a good personal assistant refuse to let them go so soon, if at all.”
“My first couple attempts weren’t quite as good as my employers wanted them to be. But I got better each time. I’m a quick study.”
“I’m sure you are,” Alex said, voice dry. “But I really don’t see why I should give any kind of job to a man who fudged his résumé and lied about his experience to more than one employer, let alone something as high in the hierarchy of my business as a personal assistant. For all I know, those aren’t the only things you’re lying about. You could be a corporate spy. Or a con man who just wants access to the company’s internal computer network.”
“I swear I’m not.” Mr. Blake leaned forward over the edge of the desk. “Look. Just give me a chance. Probationary. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
Alex considered the option. It wasn’t entirely without merit, he supposed, though it was a little like taking a badly-behaved dog in and hoping it wouldn’t bite you. Most people didn’t change their behavior overnight. Most people didn’t change their behavior at all; they didn’t have
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