17 October, 1995
I had not been happy with any of the previous interviews for the Minister's open position for a secretary. The last one wore too much perfume and sent the senior undersecretary into a coughing fit when he came back to the office an hour after the interview was completed. The one before that came recommended by the Head of the Secretarial Department, but she was offered a job in the private sector. Another was five minutes late and then asked why she was being interviewed by a child.
This was getting ridiculous.
Now I was interviewing a young woman Mrs. Fudge had found, the daughter of an old school friend of hers. I was not excited about engaging in nepotism but this position needed to be filled so I could focus on more important matters and she apparently worked for MACUSA and had no need for the complexities of a visa due to parental citizenship.
If she was not as insipid as the others I had interviewed over the last few weeks, her being American would really be her only black mark.
My intention was to meet her at the lift and escort her to the office for the interview. I closed the office door behind me and double checked the name on the folder and the enclosed work history.
Graves, Audrey Constance
That's a grim sort of name.
I flipped the page to the recommendation letters, one from a former Senator called Weathers who spoke of her intelligence, speech writing skills and work ethic.
I summoned a small pack of quills from the supply closet to resupply my desk before I forgot about it. It was always best to be ahead of these little things.
Returning to the papers in the folder was an easy thing, I would wait by the lift for exactly four minutes and if she decided to be late, as being fifteen minutes early was considered the courtesy for interviewees, then I would interview her as a courtesy to Mrs. Fudge, but she would not get the job. I did not abide tardiness.
As I turned the corner, something slammed into me from the other side, I grabbed the corner to slow my fall as a storm of papers and quills consumed my vision.
"I am so sorry!" A rushed foreign accent from the other side of the corner, sounding horrified at what had just transpired. As she should.
I got to my feet with a rush of muttering to gather my papers and my scattered quills with a wave of my wand. I could hear the woman around the corner doing the same thing I was. When I had everything I needed I stepped around the corner to make introductions and froze for a moment.
I thought she would be older, closer to thirty, not some teenager fresh out of the schoolroom.
She had a pretty face, like the heroines from the fairy tale picture books Ginny liked me to read to her when she was little, the deep blue eyes and ink black hair pulled back in a prim bun were a radical contrast to her round freckled face and flushed cheeks. I noticed she was tall for a woman, the top of her head coming to the center of my chest, so neither of us had to hurt ourselves to look the other in the eyes.
"Are you alright?" I broke the momentary silence.
"I'm fine, I'm looking for a Mr. Weasley-"
I felt my shoulders tighten, after a year of being called Weatherby, being referred to as Mr. Weasley was still a bit of a change and something I still associated with my father.
"-in the Minister's Support Staff Office? I'm supposed to interview with him in fifteen minutes."
"That's me."
She stuck out her hand quickly with a smile that was too large and toothy. Her wide, nervous eyes working in tandem to make her look either vaguely insane or incredibly frazzled.
"I'm Audrey Graves, nice to meet you!"
Oh this was not going to work.
I shook her warm hand and introduced myself in a brusque, clipped tone that sounded professional and authoritative that seemed to suit the situation and my position.
"Follow me please."
I thought she would be older, not some teenager!
I led her down to the Minister's Support Staff Office, her footsteps muffled and near silent behind me. I held the door open for her and followed her into the office before moving over to my desk and sitting down. I pulled the chair out on the other side of my desk with a flick of my wand, wordlessly inviting her to have a seat so we could begin the interview. It took her a few moments to get herself situated, placing her folder on my desk in a manner that spoke of a highly organized individual.
I began the interview.
Apparently, Ms. Graves was a duel citizen, she was qualified to work for the Ministry with no extra paperwork required. She was a speechwriter for Senator Weathers last summer, he had written her a glowing recommendation. I learned that Americans call muggles No-Majs, which is a stupid term in my opinion.
We spoke about her experience with MACUSA. Ms. Graves spoke about the projects she had researched during her internships with regards to infrastructure and magical concealment. She answered every request I had for more detail in a way that was succinct and precise.
Then I asked her to explain her short employment with Senator Graves, I did not think nepotism should have any place in politics or in a person's direct employment. I believed it to be unethical. Ms. Graves explained that he was a third cousin who agreed to take her as a last minute intern as Senator Weathers had stepped away from his position due to the passing of his wife. Working for Senator Graves was not a family favor, but a political one from the man she was originally going to intern for again.
I would accept that. Though, I was still weary over such a close familial association.
Ms. Graves also appeared to be an exceptional student according to her final grades from Illvermorny. She earned ten NEWTs, or whatever the equivalent was, apparently dropping astronomy after her fifth year, something I thought was ridiculous because astronomy was a fascinating branch of study, though useless for career prospects and I could see how a clearly sensible woman like Ms. Graves would want to focus on other topics.
"You've done very well in school." Ten NEWTs was incredibly impressive. I knew how hard it was to score well on those final exams.
"Thank you."
The conversation drifted off as I found myself more interested in the paperwork qualifications, I had an idea that Ms. Graves was an affable personality. Quiet. Sensible.
When the clock chimed for eleven, I ended the interview by getting to my feet and offering Ms. Graves my hand to shake. Ms. Graves shook my hand in farewell, her bracelets clinking together in a quiet symphony while I said courtesies and privately noted once more how warm her hands were. I decided the polite thing to do would be to escort her to the lift. She thanked me once more for the opportunity to interview as the lift arrived. Ms. Graves left as quietly as she had arrived and I returned to the office to put my notes on Smith's desk for discussion.
'Polite… Well spoken… Grating accent… Qualified…'
If I added 'too young' that would make me a hypocrite and it was against procedure to discriminate against someone for their age. I left it off and would allow Smith to make the final call and I would send the rejection or acceptance letter at his discretion.
For once, I had no complaints.
