Interviewer’s Phone

You have a job interview and meet the interviewer. When you leave the interview, you realize you’ve mistakenly taken the interviewer’s phone and he’s taken yours. The new phone rings and the caller ID reveals it’s someone you know.

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3 thoughts on “Interviewer’s Phone

  1. kathleenmagner

    I didn’t let my forced smile drop until the doors closed. Sunlight warmed the pasty air-conditioned chill from my cheeks, and car exhaust, pollen, and the stain of summer-heated asphalt washed over the pleasantries coating my tongue. I spat into the uniform grass, hoping to expel the rest of the last two hours of handshakes and hollow banter, but I couldn’t shake Allan Martin’s perpetual smirk or the haughty look of his assistant, Fitz.

    It might have been my résumé, the wrinkles in my tie, or the answers I’d given to their barrage of delicately prodding questions worming into my personal life, my work ethic, my reasons for being unemployed for the past six months. Perhaps it was all of the above. At this point, I no longer cared. Despite what my bank account might argue, they could take this job and shove it into one of their cramped cubicles.

    Fishing my keys from my slacks, I scanned the parking lot, noting the six-figure vehicles in the nearest marked stalls. The price tags decreased with each stride from the glass-façade towering at my back.

    I had the key to my hatchback, made mine by the muddied axles and the scrapes from my last venture out of civilization, in hand when the phone rang.

    The classical tune bellowed and I stared at the invisible notes of the unfamiliar ringtone emanating from my suit coat’s pocket. Trading my keys to my other hand, I dug out the device.

    The screen illuminated with Kristine’s face, smiling like I’d seen her smile on our better days, full on teeth and dimples. My thumb swept over the green button before the fact it wasn’t my phone I’d be answering reached my better judgment.