weakness”.
Seriously? If it was up to me , I would say in five years I hope to be able to have a stable job so I can pay my bills, I enjoyed my job but not working with a bunch of back stabbing bitches, and as far as weaknesses, none that would affect my job performance. Of course, that’s not what I say because that’s not what they want to hear.
My last appointment is about twenty minutes from the house and I thank God for the light traffic. I’m tired and deflated and ready to call it a day. As I walk into the massive building, I am immediately greeted by a very cheery receptionist.
“Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Sofia Bianchi and I have an appointment with Mrs. Jordan.”
“Ah yes. Please fill out these forms and she will be right with you.”
I take what looks like a small novel and sit on one of the pretty, but uncomfortable, chairs. Seriously, how do they expect you to fill out all this crap without a table? I try to balance everything on top of my bag and smile at the silly questionnaires. Do they really care what your hobbies are? If you believe that my hobbies are going to make me a better candidate for the job, then you must be crazy. What if you’re a dom by night? Do you list that on the resume or just in the application? Do you go into details or leave that for the actual interview? I am still smiling when I hear my name being called.
“Miss Bianchi?”
I look up, and in front of me stands the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met, from her serious face to her severe pant suit, not to mention the sharp haircut. Please don’t let her be the one to interview me , I prayed.
“Yes, hello.” I don’t recognize my voice. What am I doing being scared by this woman? I’m an adult damn it. I can do this.
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Jordan but you may call me Amanda.” Her handshake could crack walnuts , and I pray that my fingers are still intact when she releases my hand. “Please follow me.”
I follow the small sound of her heels and I hope I won’t pass out during the interview. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so nervous. Maybe this was a sign and I should just turn around and walk out. Before I could decide , we stop in front of a glass door that she opens for us.
The boardroom, I assume, is beautifully decorated in cherry colors, a flat wall-mounted TV on one side and a full bar on the other. Large windows fill the entire wall , providing an amazing view. But what catches my eye is the immense table that could easily sit thirty people; at least that’s how big it looks to me.
“Please have a s eat Miss Bianchi. Would you like something to drink? Coffee perhaps?”
“Sofia, please. And I would love some water if it’s not too much trouble.” I sit down and place my hands in my lap, keeping them from shaking.
“Very well, Sofia.” She walks to the bar area and brings back two bottles of water. “I had a chance to look over your resume. Although you don’t have any marketing experience, I believe you do have the skills I’m looking for. You don’t have to worry about the application. We can deal with that later if I decide to give you the job. Personally, I never understood why we waste so much money on those forms when ninety percent of the questions are irrelevant. Did you have a chance to familiarize yourself with our company?”
“Yes. I did look over the website yesterday.”
Amanda asks me a million questions about my last job, my education, why I decided to major in accounting, and, of course, where do I see myself in five years. After a while, she takes her glasses off and folds her hands on the table in that “we’re done here” manner.
“One more thing Sofia. Would you care to explain what the circumstances of your departure from your last job were?”
I hesitate for a moment then decide to be honest with her , even if it means it will cost me the job. There is no
Seriously? If it was up to me , I would say in five years I hope to be able to have a stable job so I can pay my bills, I enjoyed my job but not working with a bunch of back stabbing bitches, and as far as weaknesses, none that would affect my job performance. Of course, that’s not what I say because that’s not what they want to hear.
My last appointment is about twenty minutes from the house and I thank God for the light traffic. I’m tired and deflated and ready to call it a day. As I walk into the massive building, I am immediately greeted by a very cheery receptionist.
“Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Sofia Bianchi and I have an appointment with Mrs. Jordan.”
“Ah yes. Please fill out these forms and she will be right with you.”
I take what looks like a small novel and sit on one of the pretty, but uncomfortable, chairs. Seriously, how do they expect you to fill out all this crap without a table? I try to balance everything on top of my bag and smile at the silly questionnaires. Do they really care what your hobbies are? If you believe that my hobbies are going to make me a better candidate for the job, then you must be crazy. What if you’re a dom by night? Do you list that on the resume or just in the application? Do you go into details or leave that for the actual interview? I am still smiling when I hear my name being called.
“Miss Bianchi?”
I look up, and in front of me stands the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met, from her serious face to her severe pant suit, not to mention the sharp haircut. Please don’t let her be the one to interview me , I prayed.
“Yes, hello.” I don’t recognize my voice. What am I doing being scared by this woman? I’m an adult damn it. I can do this.
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Jordan but you may call me Amanda.” Her handshake could crack walnuts , and I pray that my fingers are still intact when she releases my hand. “Please follow me.”
I follow the small sound of her heels and I hope I won’t pass out during the interview. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so nervous. Maybe this was a sign and I should just turn around and walk out. Before I could decide , we stop in front of a glass door that she opens for us.
The boardroom, I assume, is beautifully decorated in cherry colors, a flat wall-mounted TV on one side and a full bar on the other. Large windows fill the entire wall , providing an amazing view. But what catches my eye is the immense table that could easily sit thirty people; at least that’s how big it looks to me.
“Please have a s eat Miss Bianchi. Would you like something to drink? Coffee perhaps?”
“Sofia, please. And I would love some water if it’s not too much trouble.” I sit down and place my hands in my lap, keeping them from shaking.
“Very well, Sofia.” She walks to the bar area and brings back two bottles of water. “I had a chance to look over your resume. Although you don’t have any marketing experience, I believe you do have the skills I’m looking for. You don’t have to worry about the application. We can deal with that later if I decide to give you the job. Personally, I never understood why we waste so much money on those forms when ninety percent of the questions are irrelevant. Did you have a chance to familiarize yourself with our company?”
“Yes. I did look over the website yesterday.”
Amanda asks me a million questions about my last job, my education, why I decided to major in accounting, and, of course, where do I see myself in five years. After a while, she takes her glasses off and folds her hands on the table in that “we’re done here” manner.
“One more thing Sofia. Would you care to explain what the circumstances of your departure from your last job were?”
I hesitate for a moment then decide to be honest with her , even if it means it will cost me the job. There is no
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