THE After Effects...

It’s been three days since THE interview and as I mentioned in my previous post Mr. Henrik Payne is known to be a ball buster/vagina smasher and a very handsome one at that. I am starting to think that’s not the correct phrasing when describing the man. A more appropriate analysis is silent but deadly. To get a full understanding of what I am explaining, I’ll take you back to the beginning. It all starts on a beautiful autumn day, the year 1985. A young couple named Annette and James Drake...oh wait that is WAY too far back. Let me start again.

When I last left you I happen to be sitting in a sticky fog of hormonal hyperventilation. It takes a few minutes for that to clear and me to come back to my senses. At one point Mr. Payne becomes so alarmed at my state he directs me to lie on his couch until I feel well enough to continue with the interview. To say I am mortified greatly underwhelms the situation. At this moment, as color returns to my face, I start to plan my suicide. Death by pints of ice cream, candy bars and hours of 30 Rock reruns.

Eventually I do complete the interview which isn’t at all how I imagined it to be. Mr. Payne stares at his phone, computer or my resume the whole time. Every few minutes the interview is interrupted with phone calls or emails he “just has to deal with.” I take it as a sign of his typical working day and adjust my answers accordingly. Even his rapid fire questioning I accept with ease, despite my earlier mishap. What I am not prepared for is his robotic like expression.

I will let you in on a little secret. Something that has allowed me to work my way up the corporate ladder so quickly. I can read people. There are tiny little ticks and facial expressions people give off without realizing it that can tell me everything I need to know. I learned this trick from my roommate, Jan, in college. She was a psychology major. Apparently there is a whole field of study in the area of body language.

Anyway, like the desperate woman I am I try to read this man’s face. Nothing. Not even a flush of his cheeks. So, I have to just give my answers as best I can and pray to the mighty god THE, ruler of all things THE, that he/she will see fit to make Mr. Payne like my answers.

This is when the silent part enters the story. The interview ends, only I have no idea it is finished because he never tells me. I just sit there like an idiot smiling at him, trying not to fantasize about his strong arms as he continues typing away at his computer. Finally he stands and leaves the room. I remain seated for another fifteen minutes until the blond woman who originally showed me into the room comes back.

“Ms. Drake. The interview is over. Mr. Payne left this for you.”

She walks over to where I am still seated, handing me an envelope and then exits. Stunned, I pick up my bag and make my way out to the lobby elevators. One opens and I step into the barren box. I must have really pissed him off if he left without a word. Perhaps he became aware of my leering. As I make a mental list of all the possible things that could have ruined the interview, almost fainting topping the list, I glance down at the envelope and decide to open it. My shaking hands rip the paper and pull out the white letter with the black Arial typeface. My eyes widen and my brain takes a few seconds to comprehend the words spaced neatly on the page.

I bring my hand to my mouth to stifle the scream that fights to break free while tears run down my face. How is this even possible?