a grocery store, so let’s say four thousand, one hundred and thirty five.” She stared at the figure. “That doesn’t sound right. It seems like there should be more than that.” She bit her lip and looked at the man on the end. “Is that right?”
He straightened in his seat, indignant. “How should I know?”
Sarah gaped at him. “But—”
“Well, I guess that should pretty much do it,” Turnbull said. “Do you have any questions?”
“Huh?” Her eyes were still fixed on the man on the end.
“Do you have any questions about PennCellular or the job?”
Questions—she had to ask some questions about the job. Frantically she searched her memory for the list she had prepared. Where was it? “Cell phones,” she blurted out. “You sell cell phones?” It sounded like a tongue twister. You sell cell phones by the sell shore.
Turnbull looked puzzled. “Yes, of course we do. I thought you knew that.”
“Oh, I did. I was just checking. Maybe you sell something else, too.”
“No, just cell phones.” He paused and studied her. “Anything else?”
“No—no, I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, we’re all set.” Turnbull rose and the others jumped to their feet. Sarah stood, her legs trembling. He reached across the table and shook her hand. “You’ll be hearing from us either way in a few weeks. Thanks for coming. Ms. Welsh will show you out.”
Sarah nodded. “Thank you.” She felt numb. Marcia led her to the exit and bid her good-bye.
Sarah spotted the truck in the parking lot and almost ran to it. “Thank God you’re here.” She took her seat and leaned back, closing her eyes.
Matt started the truck. “I’ve been here a while. They sure kept you long enough.”
“I spent most of that time in the waiting room. That was the most bizarre interview I’ve ever had.” She told him what had happened, not omitting a single strange or embarrassing detail.
When she finished, Matt shrugged. “Sounds to me like you handled everything just fine.”
“‘Just fine’? I sounded like I never made it past high school algebra.” Then she thought of something else and slapped a palm to her forehead. “Oh, no.”
“What?” “I calculated how many grocery stores there need to be, not how many there are.”
Matt glanced away from the road to look at her. “That doesn’t really matter, though, right?”
“What do you mean? Of course it matters. It’s a completely different issue.”
“Maybe he’s interested in how you tackled the problem, not in whether you got the right number. It’s not like he could check your answer, right? Maybe he was also trying to see how you respond to pressure.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Well, sure.”
“Then it’s worse than I thought.”
“Oh, Sarah.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m sure you did as well as anyone else they talked to. Probably better.”
“Think so? You didn’t see the waiting room. All those older men, with all that experience. How am I suppose to compete with them?”
“They probably wonder how they’re supposed to compete with someone younger who won’t expect as much money and won’t be thinking about retirement in five or ten years.”
Sarah looked out the window and said nothing. True, she did wonder why anyone with their experience would be interested in an entry-level job and why they would be out of work in the first place. But those men surely wouldn’t be out of work for long, not with their backgrounds. Everyone else who passed through that waiting room that day would probably have another job before she even had another interview.
Nine
T wo days later, Sarah finished her work in the library and was ready to move on to the next cleaning and inventory assignment. But not right away. First, she wanted to continue her quilting lessons. She took the stairs two at time and hurried to the sitting room.
“Fine work,” Mrs. Compson remarked, studying Sarah’s finished Sawtooth Star block
He straightened in his seat, indignant. “How should I know?”
Sarah gaped at him. “But—”
“Well, I guess that should pretty much do it,” Turnbull said. “Do you have any questions?”
“Huh?” Her eyes were still fixed on the man on the end.
“Do you have any questions about PennCellular or the job?”
Questions—she had to ask some questions about the job. Frantically she searched her memory for the list she had prepared. Where was it? “Cell phones,” she blurted out. “You sell cell phones?” It sounded like a tongue twister. You sell cell phones by the sell shore.
Turnbull looked puzzled. “Yes, of course we do. I thought you knew that.”
“Oh, I did. I was just checking. Maybe you sell something else, too.”
“No, just cell phones.” He paused and studied her. “Anything else?”
“No—no, I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, we’re all set.” Turnbull rose and the others jumped to their feet. Sarah stood, her legs trembling. He reached across the table and shook her hand. “You’ll be hearing from us either way in a few weeks. Thanks for coming. Ms. Welsh will show you out.”
Sarah nodded. “Thank you.” She felt numb. Marcia led her to the exit and bid her good-bye.
Sarah spotted the truck in the parking lot and almost ran to it. “Thank God you’re here.” She took her seat and leaned back, closing her eyes.
Matt started the truck. “I’ve been here a while. They sure kept you long enough.”
“I spent most of that time in the waiting room. That was the most bizarre interview I’ve ever had.” She told him what had happened, not omitting a single strange or embarrassing detail.
When she finished, Matt shrugged. “Sounds to me like you handled everything just fine.”
“‘Just fine’? I sounded like I never made it past high school algebra.” Then she thought of something else and slapped a palm to her forehead. “Oh, no.”
“What?” “I calculated how many grocery stores there need to be, not how many there are.”
Matt glanced away from the road to look at her. “That doesn’t really matter, though, right?”
“What do you mean? Of course it matters. It’s a completely different issue.”
“Maybe he’s interested in how you tackled the problem, not in whether you got the right number. It’s not like he could check your answer, right? Maybe he was also trying to see how you respond to pressure.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Well, sure.”
“Then it’s worse than I thought.”
“Oh, Sarah.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m sure you did as well as anyone else they talked to. Probably better.”
“Think so? You didn’t see the waiting room. All those older men, with all that experience. How am I suppose to compete with them?”
“They probably wonder how they’re supposed to compete with someone younger who won’t expect as much money and won’t be thinking about retirement in five or ten years.”
Sarah looked out the window and said nothing. True, she did wonder why anyone with their experience would be interested in an entry-level job and why they would be out of work in the first place. But those men surely wouldn’t be out of work for long, not with their backgrounds. Everyone else who passed through that waiting room that day would probably have another job before she even had another interview.
Nine
T wo days later, Sarah finished her work in the library and was ready to move on to the next cleaning and inventory assignment. But not right away. First, she wanted to continue her quilting lessons. She took the stairs two at time and hurried to the sitting room.
“Fine work,” Mrs. Compson remarked, studying Sarah’s finished Sawtooth Star block
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