Sara sat in her home office staring out the window contemplating what she was going to do if she did not get a job soon. She was at the end of her cushion financially with little room to move. She had gone on countless interviews and nobody wanted her. She was fifty-one, divorced and had spent her life raising a family rather than building a career and it was coming back to haunt her. She had worked many jobs over the years just to help out but nothing that really helped build her resume. She had gone to college and stopped a semester short of graduating. A tear slid down her cheek as she contemplated suicide. Going to sleep certainly could not be any worse than this. Bill collectors were closing in and even if she worked her wages would most likely be attached. Most employers disliked that. She did not have enough money to file bankruptcy. She was feeling stuck with no end in sight.
The only way she could cut the sting of her situation was to write. And write and write and write until she fell asleep at her laptop. Another week slipped by and the phone finally rang.
"Hello?"
"May I speak with Sara Beckett please."
"This is Sara."
"Sara, this is Jane Reimer with Taylor Development, Inc."
"Hi."
"I would like to invite you to come in for an interview with our CEO Daniel Taylor."
"We have an opening today at 2:00 p.m. Is that a good time for you?"
"Yes. I will be there."
"Okay. See you then."
Sara hung up and fell into a chair flooded with relief. Now; what to wear. She did not have a professional wardrobe to speak of and what she had she would literally have to wear for a month straight until she could buy more. She would call her best friend Dana and ask to borrow something.
"Dana, you have to help me. I need professional clothing to go on an interview this afternoon."
"Sweetie I am not home! I won't be back until Wednesday."
"Okay. I will figure it out. I have to be there at 2:00 so I have to get going. Thank you anyway.
"Good luck! Bye. You got this Sara."
"I hope so. Bye. Love you."
She arrived at Taylor Development and was seated in the lobby. The receptionist was young and sparky. She was very friendly.
"Can I ask you something, Ma'am?"
"Sure." the receptionist replied.
"How come you did not apply for the position?"
She stared at Sara, wide eyed and said,
"Well...they require a person to know more than I do."
"Oh. Are they...is he a nice person to work for?"
The receptionist studied Sara, pursed her lips together and nodded her head thoughtfully and said,
"Yes..." and was about to continue but the door opened and Jane walked out.'
"Sara?"
Sara stood and shook her hand.
"I am Jane Reimer. Right this way please." As she walked by she looked at the receptionist who flashed her eyes at Sara while folding her lips as if to hold her breath.
They came to a set of double office doors and she opened one to let her pass through.
"Mr. Taylor will see you now."
And before Sara knew what hit her, she was standing inside the office door which had closed behind her staring at the man who would interview her. The office was large and surrounded by windows. There were two chairs in front of his desk which was across the room. He wore reading glasses and stared at his computer screen and never bothered to look at her. By the way he filled the chair and the space he was in she could tell he was on the taller side. He looked serious. He had dark hair cut short and spiked and golden brown eyes. If she had to come in here and be around him every day she wasn't sure she would survive the experience. He was the sexiest and most powerful man she had ever met. There was an air about him that let people know to stay back unless invited. His appearance was
crisp.
His starched white shirt and cufflinks scared the living shit out of her. And his Cologne was expensive. When he finally spoke, he never looked away from his computer and his words cut right through her.
"Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to get over here so we can get on with this interview?"
"Did you not want the interview?" she asked.
He looked up at her as if he were irritated.
No not really. And especially not with someone like yourself who clearly hasn't taken her career seriously. How can I expect you to take my business seriously?
Sara felt her feet move but wasn't sure how it was happening. At some point he finally looked up and took off his glasses and made a painful assessment of her attire and appearance before settling his dark eyes on her face.
This woman comes across as a girl. Not fifty something. She dresses like she is in mourning or hiding, I'm not sure which. Her only redeeming quality in her appearance are her eyes. They are as blue green as the ocean and beautiful. But she looks scared. Am I scaring her? Good. I don't need a damn assistant. She will only quit anyway by the looks of her resume.
"Sit" he motioned toward one of the chairs. She chose the one on the left; the farthest from him. He already did not like her and she could feel it. She hadn't even spoken one word yet.
"I want you...to tell me why I should hire you." and he sat stock still not saying another word waiting for her to speak.
She shifted in her chair uncomfortably.
"Well...I need a job. I will be here...every.."
"Not good enough. There are 200 applicants ahead of you who need a job and who would be here every day. What good is your attendance if, by the look of your resume, you quit in a year or two. Miss Beckett, I want to know why you stand out ahead of the rest."
After a very long silence she drew up enough courage to answer him.
"I don't. I'm sorry. This was a mistake." Sara got up to leave and he stood too.
"Sit! You are not going anywhere. I interrupted my day to see you and the least you can do is answer my questions! Now sit back down, Sara." She sat; shocked. She felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes and willed them away as her eyes darted anywhere but to him..
"I don't stand out, Sir. I worked only to help my family while I was raising children and focused on them. Not my career."
"That's better. Was that so hard?"
She shook her head no.
"I don't know what you are used to, Sara, but in this office, when I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response. Now; Was. That. So. Hard?"
"No, Sir."