The Schism
Chapter 3
The person called L walked up to the Information Desk. "Excuse me," he said to the woman seated there. "My name is Lemony Snicket. I have an appointment at 4:00 with Ms. Poe."
The woman at the desk scrambled hurriedly through a tall stack of papers. Then, failing there, she flipped though a beat up RoloDex until she found what she was looking for. She plucked out a small index card and handed it to M. Snicket.
"Here you are," she said. "Ms. Poe's office is on the top floor. only office with a guard. Give this to the guard and he'll let you in. Good luck, Mr. Snicket."
Mr. Snicket thanked her and deftly located the nearest elevator. He was slightly uncomfortable; Volunteers always were shen giving out their real names. There was generally nothing wrong with doing this, but these days... well, it was best not to think about it.
Besides getting several paper cuts in the same day or receiving the news that someone in your family has betrayed you to your enemies, one of the most unpleasant experiences in life is a job interview. It is very nerve-wracking to explain to someone all the things you can do in the hopes that they will pay you to do them. And, unfortunately for Mr. Snicket, a job interview was exactly what he had come here for, an unpleasant fact that revealed itself in the pit in his stomach, as he pressed the elevator button labeled "32."
All too soon, it seemed, the elevator came to a stop at 32, the top floor. He stepped out on autopilot and made his way to the guard at the door to Ms. Poe's office. He presented the card the receptionist had given him, and wlaked through the door, which the guard had graciously opened. The door shut behind him.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Snicket," said a voice.
* * *
Ms. Eleanora Poe was 35, single, and the snootiest newspaper editor one could ever possibly imagine. Ideed, it was easy to be snooty, growing up in a family like hers. Her father was the sole heir to a grandiose fortune, but because her miserly great-uncle wouldn't hurry up and die, the Poes were left only fairly wealthy. Her mother was a former tour guide; it was on one of these tours that she met Eleanora's father and fell in love. After they got married, they had Eleanora, and spoiled her horribly. Like all first borns, Eleanora loved to pick on her younger siblings (A/N: Don't tell me off for that comment! I am a first born myself!). In the way of younger siblings she had a brother, Arthur, who had an annoyingly persistent cough, which he had picked up in grade school and never gotten rid of. Arthur had a wife and two children (extremely obnovious children, in Eleanora's opinion) and worked at some odd bank uptown. Eleanora ha no time to remember the names of banks at which he relatives worked. Her job as chief editor of the Daily Punctilio required all of her energy.
At this moment, Ms. Poe was seated in an enormous leather office chair behind an enormous wooden desk, which was all fitted out with flags and the Punctilio's trademark seal as if Eleanora were the President of the United States. In front of this desk there was a stool such as one of a set of stools one wuld use to seat a large school band on a minscule budget. As there were apparently no other seats in the room, Mr. Snicket took it he was supposed to sit on this stool, which he proceeded to do. Ms. Poe waited a couple of seconds before saying, "I presume you brought your resumé?"
Mr. Snicket almost sighed with relief, but stopped himself. Resumés are, of course, the only things capable of making a job interview more bearable. A resumé is simply a list of one's accomplishments and skills, written before the interview so that the one does not have to recite these accomplishments and skills out loud. Or course Mr. Snicket had brought one; he had only been afraid Ms. Poe would not ask to see it. He handed it to her.
"Hmm," she said, looking it over. "Notetaking... researching... good.... What are your interests, Mr. Snicket?"
This was good. Things were going smoothly so far. He replied simply, "I have many interests, Ms. Poe," hoping she would get to her point. She did.
"Are you at all interested in the dramatic arts? Theater and such? Because we have an opening here for Theater Critic, and we have been looking for someone to take the post."
Mr. Snicket was secretly elated. Now it was certain - he was getting this job. "Yes, in fact I am an avid theater connoisseur," he half-lied; he did enjoy theater but rarely got a chance to, what with VFD and all.
"Good," said Ms. Poe. "When do you think you can start?"
"Any time, Ms. Poe."
"Monday then. I expect a daily column, mind you."
It was Friday. Two days to prepare.
"That's fine, Ms. Poe."
"Very good. Thank you, Mr. Snicket, you may leave. I assume you can show yourself out?"
"Yes." He was only too happy to do so.
* * *
OK, there is chapter 3. Tell me what you think!
I know, it sounds like I am campaigning for reviews, but who doesn't like getting reviews?
~ Anoriel
