The job posting seemed innocuous enough:
Paid Summer internship for advertising company in Mid-West market region. Applicants must be driven and possess stellar written and oral skills. Benefits not included but several other perks available with proven work ethic. Please submit a headshot with resume to following email address...
Since Nick had not seen so much as a response from any of his other inquiries, he reasoned it was at least worth a shot and quickly attached his resume and one of the more professional-looking selfies from his camera roll and sent it off. Once he had reached his self-imposed requisite ten applications submitted for the day, he triumphantly closed his laptop and got ready for an afternoon run.
As he stretched in the shared living room of the apartment, there was a loud clatter in the room directly across from his bedroom. Nick knew his drunken mess of a roommate had finally awoken from another bender from the night before. The door swung open, and a billow of smoke poured out along with a disheveled apparition that groggily shuffled towards him. Nick laced up his shoes and was putting in his earbuds as his roommate slumped into the body imprint on the couch from countless previous sessions and picked up the controller that sat in its near-permanent perch on the armrest.
"I'm going for a run. You got any plans for the day?" Nick asked, already knowing the response.
Not one to disappoint, his roommate only held up the controller, and Nick had his answer. He shook his head and took his phone out to turn on his running playlist before heading out, and before he could open the app, the phone vibrated in his hand.
Mom
flashed across the top, and Nick sighed loudly before mashing the red
cancel
button and heading for the door.
When he returned from his run, Nick found his roommate unmoved from when he had left nearly an hour before. As what had become their customary ritual, not a word passed between them as Nick kicked his shoes off and crossed to the fridge for a bottle of water. He lifted his sweat-soaked shirt over his head and used it as a sweat rag to wipe his face off before draping it over his shoulders and taking another long swig of water.
"Did you catch him yet," came his roommate's voice from the couch.
"Almost got him this time," came the response in their now well-practiced routine. "You finally win the war for us?" prompted Nick with a head nod toward the TV.
"Bastards just keep on coming," the dance continued, and they did their usual awkward ballet as Nick nudged past on his way to a seat on the couch, careful never to interrupt the field of vision. Once safely seated, he pulled out his phone, and the two sat inches apart in proximity but worlds apart in mindscape.
"Holy shit!" Nick burst out, and both jumped. Nick was still entranced by his phone and crossed directly in front of the TV, which earned him a sharp smack on his thigh. "Oh shit, sorry," he absentmindedly called out as he paced the living room.
"Fucking great! The goddamn Nazis got me again." In an instant, the controller slammed against the coffee table and was replaced by the large glass bong already prepacked and ready for what should have been a celebratory smoke. "Alright, you're killing me. What was so fucking important you got me killed?"
Nick was suddenly drawn back to the apartment from his phone. "Really sorry. I actually got a callback," and with that, he started reading out loud:
Hello Nick. I received your resume and would like to meet up and discuss the role further. As this position needs to be filled immediately, I would like to meet as soon as possible. Please text me at your earliest conven-
"Good for you, man. Might need to put a shirt on though."
Nick frantically looked at his watch and back at the message, "fuck! This came twenty minutes ago. I need to hop in the shower. I'm going to text them quick. Keep an eye on my phone and let me know if slash when they message back," he barked and tossed the phone on the couch before waiting for a response.
In a blur, Nick was in and out of the shower. He was shaving with his electric razor when he ran back into his bedroom to pick out what to wear. A shirt flew back and landed on the bed, followed by a tie and finally a pair of pants before he spun back from the closet to get dressed. He nearly tossed the razor on the bed before he saw that his roommate was laying on it, legs crossed, back against the headrest.
His hand instinctively went to cover his crotch as he realized he was not alone, "Holy fuck!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing in here?"
"Gees, I thought you wanted me to let you know they text back."
"I meant shout from the other room. In case you hadn't noticed-"
"Oh, calm down, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Those runs are really doing you favors by the way-"
"Shut up and get out of here," he said and waved with his free hand toward the door. "I thought we agreed about that kind of talk. Thanks for all your help, by the way." Moments later, Nick emerged from his room fully dressed and made his way to the door through a thick cloud of smoke as the TV was once again blaring with gunshots. "Wish me luck," he called back over his shoulder just before the door closed behind him.
The small coffee shop was nearly empty as Nick walked in, and he scanned the faces of the few customers seated to pick out the
Tracy
he had been exchanging emails and texts with. There were four customers in the shop, so his odds were fairly decent. There was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties sitting in a booth typing away on a laptop, and Nick figured someone so close to his age was not likely to be in a management position. His hypothesis was further confirmed by the fact that he was wearing sweatpants and hadn't shaved in days, so Nick ruled him out -- down to three.
Next, he saw an elderly gentleman dressed well enough to fit the role but seemed to be nodding off as he stared at the newspaper in front of him. Nick decided this was more than likely not the person he had been exchanging texts with as little as five minutes prior. Down to a coin flip. The final two candidates were: a woman wearing yoga pants and a low-cut cami and a middle-aged man wearing a three-piece suit and talking to someone on a Bluetooth device as he paced in a corner. Figuring the woman was either on her way to or from the gym and was less dressed for a formal interview, Nick made an educated guess and crossed her off the list, leaving only the obvious businessman.
As Nick took a deep breath, he started walking towards the man, hoping he would end his phone call to greet him. Once he was within five feet, it became clear the man had either not noticed him or was making some sort of power play and ignoring him to make it obvious who was in charge. Nick had read up on the importance of an excellent first impression as well as asserting dominance in the workplace and wanted to show he was willing to take the initiative in the role. He stood tall, pressed his shoulders back, and tried to force eye contact with the gentleman.
When that didn't work, he thought of making sure this was the right person and started to reach for his phone to once again text Tracy to make sure, but fought the urge as it might look as though he were playing a game or scrolling through social media once the man realized his presence.
The man finally glanced his way, and Nick took a breath in and reached out his hand for a shake, but the man simply gave an awkward head nod and turned his back to him. Nick felt embarrassed but still wanted to seem eager for the position and reasoned that it must be an important call that wouldn't take much longer. Still fighting the urge to check his phone, Nick took another glance around the coffee shop. The boy was still typing away while the elderly man had given up the charade of reading the paper, and his head sunk into his chest in slumber. The woman was seated on one of the high chairs, and with each tap of her toe, the silky fabric of her cami strained to contain her bouncing bosom.
Tried as he might, Nick couldn't help but become mesmerized by the rhythmic cadence of her swaying breasts. It wasn't until the man coughed loudly behind him that Nick realized he had been caught. As he turned with an outstretched hand to greet his host, two truths came crashing down on him. First: the man hadn't been getting his attention to start their meeting but was instead trying to nudge past him to get his coffee. Second, the woman who had entranced him so, and was now glaring at him as he fully realized his plight, was actually who he had come to meet with. In an abysmal attempt to cover his folly, Nick acted as though there was some confusion about whether it was his coffee or the gentleman's before excusing himself and making his way over to the woman.
"Excuse me, ma'am, would you happen to be Tracy?" Nick asked, holding out his hand, hoping she wouldn't notice how red his face must be.
"Ma'am?" she mocked. "Between that and assuming Brooks Brothers over there was the boss, I'd say this is going swimmingly for you so far." Nick could once again feel the heat rise in the tiny store. "I see on your resume you're in your third year at University, is that correct?"
"Yes, ma- Ms."-
"Tracy will do. I also see you have made Dean's list your first two years and were valedictorian of your high school class. That all looks fine. I'll be honest Nicky, the job is mostly clerical work and errands; They will be long hours and mostly admin tasks. Still interested?"
"Oh, very much so Ms- Sorry. Tracy".
"Good. Now then, do you have a girlfriend"?
"Excuse me-"
