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I relax. She’s just making a joke. I need to get a fucking grip. Technology might not be my jam, but people are, and I don’t like to think I might be losing my touch of reading them.
We reach the end of the corridor, coming to a stop in front of a door with a sign that reads Franklin Ludlow, CEO. His office is the only one that’s not glass fronted, and I don’t get a chance to size him up like I hoped I would when I saw the other offices.
The secretary taps on the door. I hear a muffled “come in,” and she pushes the door open.
“I have Elle Morris for you,” she says.
“Send her in,” Franklin replies.
The secretary stands back and smiles at me. She pushes the door open wider and makes a gesture at me to enter. I nod my thanks to her and step in. Franklin Ludlow’s office is very different from the rest of the space. The space has clean, crisp lines—it’s monochrome, modern. This office has dark oak paneling and a thick red carpet. It screams old school, and it screams money.
Like Franklin himself. He looks to be in his mid-forties, and he is immaculately groomed. His suit shouts money.
He stands up as I go in. The door closes behind me, and I jump a little. Franklin extends his hand, and I shake it. His palm is a bit sweaty, but he has a good grip. Not too firm but certainly not limp.
“Thank you for coming. Please take a seat,” he says.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Ludlow,” I say as I sit down.
“Franklin,” he says. “We don’t have all those formalities here.”
I nod. Franklin walks around to my side of his desk and sits down on the edge of it. He looks me up and down, not even trying to be subtle. I clear my throat, uncomfortable under his gaze. He smiles warmly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I like to have a proper look at a candidate before I interview them. You can tell a lot about a person based on their choice of an interview outfit. Don’t you agree?”
He goes back to his chair behind the desk, and I relax a little. I remind myself he’s old school, and I nod mutely. His eyes mostly seemed to focus on my legs, and I want to tell him they won’t tell him whether or not I can do this job, but I bite my tongue.
“So you said on the telephone that this will be your first job. Excuse the bluntness, but I expected you to be straight out of college.”
I was expecting this question, although a less blunt version, but I can deal with blunt.
“I didn’t go to college,” I say. “I chose to stay home and raise my children.”
“So why now?” he asks. “Divorced?”
“No,” I say, shocked at the personal question. “My girls are old enough to fend for themselves a little now, and I want to do something for my own personal development.”
His eyes linger on my breasts a moment too long before he looks at my face and smiles warmly. I really don’t know how to take him at all. On the one hand, his questions are probing, personal, and his eyes are most definitely wandering. But on the other hand, he seems warm and friendly. I did a bit of research yesterday on interview techniques, and I came across a rather gross method where the interviewer purposely tries to make the interviewee feel uncomfortable to see how they will react. Maybe he’s trying that. If he is, it’s certainly working.
“So what you’re telling me is that you have zero experience?” he says.
Again I was expecting this, but I was expecting it wrapped in some sort of disguise. I decided to follow his lead and be blunt.
“No. What I’m telling you is I’ve spent the last fourteen years bringing up two children and running a house. I’ve learned time management skills. I’ve learned people skills, and I have learned how to stay calm in a crisis. I’ve learned to negotiate with people. I’ve learned to put my foot down when it needs to be done, and quite honestly, I’ve learned not to take any shit from anyone.”
I wonder if I said too much, but he grins and nods.
“I like that,” he says. “I have three myself, so I get it. Negotiating with those tiny terrorists is much harder than negotiating business deals.”
I feel myself relax a little and I laugh.
“Yes. I just can’t imagine which way a banana is sliced being a huge issue in the business world.”
He laughs with me, and then he gets serious again.
“So here’s my problem, Elle. I like you, and I think you have a fire in your belly. I want to give you a chance. But as you can imagine, the receptionist at my company isn’t the moneymaker, and you’re completely new to this whole world. I can’t afford to waste my time training a receptionist. You understand that, right?”
