Alex re-read the letter, gulping down a carton of cheap box wine. ‘75k’ she said out aloud, disbelievingly, ’75 fucking thousand’. Even if she sold the shop, it wouldn’t be enough. She needed a job. Hell, she needed 6 jobs if she were to ever pay off this loan.
She kept the carton aside and scouted through the newspaper, looking for any and every job that she might fit into.
Rose Manson Funeral home, assistant needed
• Must know how to embalm and clean dead bodies
• Must be familiar with Christian burial rituals
‘hmm’…. could she bury dead bodies? Maybe, worth a shot. Mark for later
Seattle Grace, Neurosurgeon wanted
• Must have an M.D. in neurology
• Board certified surgeons will be given special preference
• Must have at least 3 years of hospital and surgical experience
‘No harm in trying, it’s just opening people’s heads and moving a few things around in the brain. I could do that’. Mark for later
Katherine Jackson Enterprise, Assistant Engineer wanted
• Must have a graduate degree in Engineering
• Candidates specializing in applicative engineering will be given special consideration
‘What!!!’, Alex exclaimed. This was the job for her, and she knew it. She quickly read further details; interviews will be held today, 29th August at the Jackson Towers, 54th Floor, Tower B from 1:00p.m. to 4:30 p.m.
She looked at the clock hurriedly. It was already 12:45. Jackson towers wasn’t far away, but she absolutely couldn’t afford a taxi and so would have to walk. If she wanted to get there on time, she needed to leave now. Alex threw on a blue formal shirt, tucked them into her black pants and put on a black blazer. She tied her hair back up in a pony tail, but it looked too sticky. So, she removed it, ruffled her hair once and ran out the door, praying that she’d reach in time.
Meanwhile, Jackson towers was buzzing with candidates. Two different interviews were being held simultaneously. The waiting hall looked like a conference room for some Victoria’s Angels and Silicon Valley Geniuses joint venture. The spectacled, thin men, with coats just hanging on their shoulders, stared at the models who one by one went into office at the far end, and came out either crying, or dejected like they’d just met with a dementor.
A lady click-claked into the hall and called ‘Next’, and another pretty woman walked into the office, that the engineering candidates had now named deathly hallows.
‘What’s your name?’ the lady escorting the pretty woman to deathly hallows asked
‘Samantha’, she replied, taking a
strand of her hair and tucking it behind her lip, while biting her lower lip and trying to sound seductive
‘Samantha, sweetie, you don’t have to seduce me. Save the voice and eyes for Mr. Jackson’, she mocked and opened the door to deathly hallows
‘Sir, this is Samantha’ she introduced and left, closing the door behind her.
Samantha stood in awe, as she saw the handsome figure seated on the other side of the table. Michael Jackson was breathtakingly beautiful. His curly hair, like always was half tied up and half down, with a few strands caressing his face, falling from his forehead and ending at his sharp cheekbones. And his jawline. God must have taken his time to sculpt that jawline. It was geometrically perfect. Sam let her eyes wander down to his smooth neck and broad shoulders. That tux fit him like it was stitched on him.
‘If you’re done undressing me with your eyes, can we proceed’ Michael asked seriously, and Samantha jerked out of her trance.
‘Yes, sure. Sorry to stare Michael, you’re so beautiful, I couldn’t control myself’
