After his heroics on anzac day, Jack Ginnivan was certainly not short on fans, confidence, and girls screaming his name.
But there was only one girl that could catch his attention.
No one mentioned how bad the aftermath of an overdose was.
Through all the tests and hospitalisation, Trent barely had a moment to himself, just a week of probing questions and concerned looks.
"It was just tea!" Trent wanted to exclaim.
The worst part of it all was that upon being discharged, Trent opened up his email and saw his most dreaded subject line staring back at him.
Termination.
He knew Ginni had alerted the club on the event of his hospitalisation, but there'd been no communication since and obviously the club had moved on.
Sighing, Trent knew that his meagre income from the TB threads clothing business and waiting tables at Lazy Moe's wasn't going to be enough. He needed to look for more work.
~chapter break~
"So, what do you know about ASIC?" The interviewer questioned, notebook opened to a blank page, pen poised menacingly.
"Um, well, it's where companies register to be, uh, companies," Trent answered nervously.
"Mm," the interviewer said, pursing their lips. "have you worked in an accounting firm before?"
"Well, no, but I meet up with my friend Josh Thomas to go through my tax..." Trent began nervously.
"Mmm," the interviewer murmured. "Okay so why do you want this receptionist job? What would you bring to the table?"
Trent squirmed, sweat beaded on his forehead. This was it. The big question. The answer he had practised over and over in the mirror. "I—-"
He was interrupted by a shrill sound, coming from his pocket.
An excited man's voice.
"GINNIVAN'S THERE, ELLIOTT'S THERE AS WELL, HE CAN GIVE IT TO GINNI OR GO FOR THE LOT—"
Trent looked at the interviewer, panicked.
The interviewer looked back at him, eyes wide, recognition gleaming.
Hands shaking, Trent slid his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. "Oh, I... I should take this," he whispered. "It's my mum. She's in Queensland, they're a bit behind—"
"Mmhmm," the interviewer said, back to a complete poker face as Trent took a few steps away, answering the call and silencing the roar of the crowd on a Sunday afternoon at the MCG.
When Trent came back and sat down, he managed a smile. "Where were we?" He asked, trying to sound cheery.
The interviewer leaned in, her eyes lit up with sparkles. "Is your ringtone..." she said breathlessly. "Is that the commentary from... from Carlton vs collingwood round 23 in 2022?" Her face was flushed pink.
"Yes," Trent admitted shyly, just as breathlessly, staring at her dancing eyes.
"You're hired," she said automatically, shutting the notebook on her lap and putting down the pen.
Author's note: author actually has no idea about the aftermath of attempted overdoses, I feel bad for trivialising it in this little silly chapter. Also the fact that you can be hospitalised, with no way of communicating to the outside world, and not have the full support of your workplace is outrageous. What kind of person would do such a thing????? What kind of dragon lady--- ok too far, back up a bit. I'm still baffled and this is just my way of trying to process things :))))) writing is cathartic
The interviewer played by Katie Couric
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