Gracie LaFaveur was walking down the streets of new york with a spring in her step that could only be compared to someone wearing those dangerous plastic moon shoes of the early nineties. It was a beautiful spring morning in the city, and as she walked through town the crust and grime and blare of car horns seemed to melt away on a cool breeze, as soft and fragrant as a fresh-bloomed fart.
Passers-by would testify that all this joy was in fact trailing in the wake of young Miss LaFaveur, who in addition to her bouncy step was humming a jaunty sort of tune. You see, things were already going her way this morning, and, unbeknownst to her, the job interview she was heading to would change her life forever.
"hmmm-hmm-hmm" she sang to herself, coming up to the door to a very big and insanely fancy office building. The door was held open for her by a side character of no importance, but she still graced him with a sweet smile and thanks, because she's basically a disney princess. "hmm, hmmm... I'm an adult... I can wear shorts whenever I waaaant..." a nearby janitor nearly fell into a swoon at her sweet crooning as she waited for the elevator.
She caught her reflection in the mirrored glass inside the lift as it swooshed her elegantly upwards in the exact way those hand pumped water rocket toys never fucking do. She was wearing an elegant but professional dress in a cream shade that brought out her brilliantly blue eyes, and was carrying a designer handbag large enough to hold one small dog and one disembodied head of medium proportion, although at present it only held her resume and a few essentials.
She strode confidently out of the elevator and up to a prim secretary sitting behind a very deep marble desk. It was so deep that Gracie thought it might be necessary to fold her resume into a paper airplane and throw it at the head of the man, who was in turn so incredibly prim that she thought perhaps she could hear the leather upholstery of his chair squeaking even farther up his buttocks.
"Hello, I'm G-" "Miss Graciela LaFaveur... yes, I know" the secretary interrupted her rudely, in a rude manner. "You're here for the interview. It had better not be a secretarial position – you could never replace me" Gracie bit back her many scathingly witty responses and merely fluttered her eyelashes in a surprised southern lady sort of way. This was no doubt the way of New York and she had better get used to rude people jealous of her sparkle.
After staring at each other in increasingly awkward silence for a few minutes, the man made a quick call on his headset and then gestured her through. "Mr. Scott will see you now" he snivelled.
Gracie took a deep breath and began the five minute walk it would take to get her past the very deep and imposing marble desk and into the office (heheh get it?). But she took it with her held held high, because this was her Big Chance and things were Gonna Work Out Great.
She had no idea.