I hand him my résumé. He smiles. His smile tells me that he will call me by a term of endearment, he will criticize my clothes, he will instruct me to take printouts and bring files, he will examine my marital status.
I tell him I can start on Monday.
Editor’s pick for microprose this week:
I’ve often said that one of the best ways to tell a microstory is to leave a lot of it outside the lines, giving the reader just enough detail to see the shape of it as a backdrop. Anusha did all that this week, from the way the title (Interview #4) sets the stage for the narrator’s quiet desperation, to the all-too-relatable way she knows things about her potential boss from the life experience that is implied rather than told. This was an especially uncomfortable story to read in the US yesterday against the backdrop of Comey’s testimony, because I, like most people, was already in a state of sympathetic cringing about the personal compromises we sometimes have to make to get and keep a job we need.