Hey guys. I just managed to overcome some major writer's block and thought of a new story. I'm off for four weeks so hopefully I'll get further on this one. I've got some ideas in this mind of mine. Have a go and let me hear your thoughts.
Ugh, what's that smell? Emily felt slightly dizzy as the overwhelming smell of lemon Lysol pervaded her button nose. The ratio of cleaning chemical to surface area has got to be unhealthily disproportionate. Emily stepped into the small office that had been haunting her in her dreams. This was technically going to be her first job interview, not to be confused with her first job. She had spent the last few summers working at Fitch Fitness, her dad's gym, but this summer she wanted a change in atmosphere... and to not have to deal with her dad at home and at work. Emily psyched herself up, think of the minimum wage! True, she was being sarcastic, but money was money and college would not pay for itself.
She looked around the room, until her eyes settled on a desk toward the back. She nervously approached the front of it. The woman sitting behind it looked up from her desktop. "Can I help you?" From her voice alone, Emily could tell this was going to be unpleasant; it was dripping with displeasure, similar to what you would expect from a government worker. However, this was no government, nope. This was Supermart, "The supermarket where the service and supplies aren't just good, they're super!" Emily already feigned her much practiced in the mirror "so-happy-to-work-here" smile. "Hi, I have a job interview for," Emily looked at her watch, "two-o'clock." Punctual, as always. She was ten minutes early.
Emily read the woman's nametag: Harriet. Harriet looked past Emily to the clock on the wall. "You're early," she stated. "Hmm..." She squinted at Emily, obviously gathering a judgment. Perhaps it was Emily's bright red hair that caused Harriet to conclude her open observation with a scoff. Emily had dyed her hair the boldest shade of red a few months ago and therefore was very used to gawking. However, for the sake of her work potential, she reserved her retort for internal relief. Yeah? Well you can go fuck yourself. I love my hair.
After several awkward seconds of a silent stare-off, Harriet resigned and punched the keys individually into her computer. Her process was taking forever. It was frustrating for Emily to stand there when she could have easily typed whatever it was the lady needed to, in mere seconds. What the hell is someone technologically incompatible doing as a secretary for a corporate business? Harriet interupted her baffled train of thought with a straight-forward question: "Last name?" Not even a please. God.
"Emily Fitch."
Harriest looked up from her keyboard momentarily, disgruntled. "I only needed your last name."
"Fitch," Emily repeated.
"Yeah, I know."
Emily shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She desperately needed the summer job but she did not know if she could tolerate more employees with the same indifferent, rude attitude as this secretary, for more than a day.
"You can sit now," the lady said without looking up to acknowledge Emily.
Emily looked around the room. There was a set of rusting stacked red lockers lined up against one wall, a few seats on either side of a door that read "Manager," and a corkboard with employee of the month on another wall. Emily approached the corkboard for a closer look. "May 2013 - Naomi Campbell." Wow. She's beautiful. She studied the girl's headshot: shoulder-length platinum blonde hair, bright white teeth in a customer-friendly smile, gorgeous pale blue eyes, straight nose, and pale white skin. Emily immediately felt a intimidated by Naomi, even though she had not the slightest clue of the girl's disposition. All she knew was that the girl was a high-achiever because to the right of the corkboard was a chart: "Employee of the Month: January 2013 - Naomi Campbell; February 2013 - Naomi Campbell; March 2013 - Naomi Campbell; April 2013 - Naomi Campbell; May 2013 - Naomi Campbell."
Eventually, Emily took a seat in one of the chairs she had noticed earlier, beside the manager's door. About twenty minutes after her interview had been scheduled for, the door opened. A scruffy looking man, seming to be about in his early 40s, poked his head out. "How we doing Harriet?" Emily noticed he was wearing a green polo and khaki pants, the employee uniform with the addition of an oversized-blazer and some coffee-stains.
"Just peachy," she mumbled. "Someone's here to see you." Harriet nodded pointedly in Emily's direction.
Emily stood up and tried to shrug off any further frustration that only just now the secretary was informing the manager of her arrival. I thought that's what you were typing into the computer, Goddamn it. Now what if he thinks I was late?
"Ah, another teenage lass. What a surprise," he said sarcastically. "Well, come on in then, let's get this rubbish over with..." He leaned against the door for Emily to step inside. Much like the manager's self-presentation, his office was messy and unorganized; papers and files were stacked over all available surface area of the wooden desk. "So what can I do for you, madame?" He sat down opposite Emily in a squeaky wheelie chair.
"I, uh, came here for a job interview."
"Is that so? You must be..." he looked at his computer than back at the redhead, "Emily then."
"Yeah."
"Right. I suppose I should ask you some err questions then. What's your favorite kind of dog?" The man held a clipboard in his lap and a dangled a pen between his fingers.
"Sorry?" Emily almost laughed out of nervousness. She had expected questions along the lines of her work experience and leadership and teamwork qualities, nothing as trivial as her favorite kind of dog. Besides her family had forbade the idea of even allowing a pet enter their home with her mother's unfortunate allergies to furry creatures.
"No favorite dog then." He looked at a picture on his desk. Emily noticed it was of him and what she thought was a chihauhau puppy. He scribbled something on his clipboard. "Cat person then?"
"Um, no. My, uh, parents never allowed pets. My mum has allergies."
"What a fookin' shame." Emily was shocked that he just swore in front of her. Clearly the lack of professionalism in this workplace was not the biggest of deals. Then again, he was the manager, which meant he could probably get away with anything. He scribbled some more on his clipboard. What the hell could you possibly be writing? "Favorite music artist?"
"Ellie Goulding."
"Never heard of her." He scribbled some more.
"Really? She's quite popular."
"If you can't tell, popular ain't quite my thing." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But I suppose once you start working here the people here might broaden your taste a bit beyond the top forty." He scribbled down some more once again.
"So wait, I've got the job?" Emily asked cautiously but excitedly.
"Of course you fookin' have. Anyone who applies can work here." He shrugged.
"Wait, wait, wait. So then what was the point of this interview?"
"Nonsense bureaucratic formalities, I suppose. All a bunch of blarmy if you ask me but I just work here," he chuckled. "And by work, I mean the very loose interpretation of the word."
"So then what exactly have you been writing this whole time?"
"Writing? Pshh, not a chance, Emily." He turned his clipboard around to show Emily. "It's a t-rex holding a gun to his head saying 'I'd rather be extinct than work at Supermart.' Fridge-worthy, ain't it?" He chuckled.
"Absolutely." Emily's laughed with him.
"And on that flattering note, you're hired. I'm Kieran MacFoeinaiugh, by the way, but you can call me Kieran. Mr. Kieran when I'm walking around with the suits though. They're all about position acknowledgment yadda, yadda, but I think there's more to respect than formality."
And in that moment, Emily knew she was probably going to like her job, even if the secretary was a bitch. "When do I start?"
Kieran answered, "Eager, are we?"
"I just prefer work to being at home," Emily confessed with a hint of sadness.
"I see, I see. Family can be a right kick in the balls," he leaned in slightly to and whispered, "just don't tell mine I said that." Kieran stood up and opened his door. "You can start tomorrow, Emily. Day shift good for starters?"
"Yeah, sounds great. Thank you Mr. MacFo-I mean, Kieran."
"Sorted. See ya later then."
*shifts nervously* So... what do you think?
