This was the moment I waited for. Not what I longed for, far from it actually. If anyone grew up telling their teachers that this was their dream job, hands down, they were still sleeping and most likely having a nightmare.
I sat across a man with a beard lacking rogue strands, and a head lacking everything except the spotlight.
“Tell me about yourself?” He remained laid back, shifting his glasses slightly forward. “Why do you need this job?” he asked me.
I sat up straight. “It's always been a dream of mine to become a milk merchandiser, ever since I was a kid actually,” I said. “My father was the community milkman, so watching him – and being inspired by him – I knew it was my destiny and therefore it became my dream. A dream to put milk on the shelve everyday for the rest of my life.”
“That was very inspiring!” was the response I was hoping for. “I want you as my right hand man!” was the response I wanted to hear, but all I got was a blank facial expression. No wonder he was bald. It was all a ploy to hide all evidence of stress.
I had nothing to lose. ‘Why do you think I need the job?’ I stood up. ‘I need the money, bitch.’ Was my next move, but it was too late for that.
"You start Monday . . ."
. . .
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One Terrible Day (Short Stories)
NouvellesJason finds himself in the police station after his ex-girlfriend is run over by a bus. A man struggles to tell his date what he does for a living. A rich man can't seem to understand why women only date him for his money, so he asks Siri. These are...
