I tried my luck with local super market. At least it was something! I kept telling it until I was convinced, because I really, really needed that job. Needing meant options were limited. To me at least.
I found out there was a free bus that took people to the shop and back on daily bases, so that seemed like a nice thing, considering I would have opted walking anyway. Free bus on a rainy day would have cut my walking by twenty minutes at least.
It didn’t look special from far – the large windows all looking on the empty field that would be soon filled with futuristic houses for new rich folk, who could afford living far away from the centre on a field that was covered with winter crops just few years earlier. I was appalled at first how empty this place was, yet when I got inside and sat on the bench, waiting for my interview, the shop didn’t seem to suffer being alone in the barley fields. I saw at least 20 different personnel and the flow of customers looked even between the isles.
And older lady approached me and I liked her already. Her eyes were warm and assuring. She wore simple costume provided by the shop. They had even thought about keeping them warm, I noted, as my eyes flew over her vest with her name tag on it.
I nodded. She gifted me a smile. Her lips were painted pink. She looked lovely, perfect for doting her younger co-workers around. Yet her grey eyes were full of steel and judgment, but I tried to rub it off as something only I would see right now.
Everyone I had to talk with lately seemed to make me want to curl up and hide like a hedgehog. I wanted to hide. The more I spoke with any of them, the greater were the chances of my parents finding out.
But this was not the time to think about it.
“Follow me, please.”
I took my green messenger bag and fixed it on my shoulder as I tried to prepare myself better for the interview. If it was her, who was interviewing me, I felt good about it already. I might have a chance.
“So…” she drawled, showing me in a small cabinet behind the information desk and offering me a simple plastic chair. The cabinet would have been larger, but two out of four walls were hidden behind shelves and paperwork. There were files named contracts and personnel profiles and customer’s complaints. Despite the disorderly mass of papers around, it actually seemed logical.
“You wrote that you saw our advertisement on our homepage?”
“Yes.” I started quietly and cleared my throat, realizing I was too quiet. “It was posted in July, I wasn’t sure if it was still valid.”
“Oh, it’s valid.” She assured me. “We are often searching for new workers.”
I couldn’t decide if that was good thing to know about the company.
I felt the heat build up and crippling me from the chest up, but I hoped it to ease after opening the coat. It didn’t work.
The went pipe under the ceiling above her head started working. It welt stuffed.
“You’ve requested to work in this region? Do you have specific reason for it?”
“I study.” I tried to be as vague as I possibly could about university. I hated lying, when I had to as honest as I possibly could, but I didn’t want to lose my cheep place and in a place like this – if one knew different truth then others, the courthouse would soon know it too and there went both my housing and my freedom.
“Oh? So you would be interested in week-ends and late hours?”
“I’m free mostly on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and week-ends. Last year. I’ve only got few lectures and bachelor thesis. However,” I began slowly, fear getting the best of me, but I had to tell them or they might find out sooner or later, “I do need to appear in the court on 20th, so I need that Thursday off.”
I could feel the walls closing in as she pointedly stared me over her thin frames and her Marilyn Monroe hairdo seemed to fall flatter like drooping ears. She easily moved over the statement, but she did adjust her position before continuing swiftly.
“We like our workers to be familiar at least two languages besides our own, so…”
I cleared my throat and tried to continue casually. “Russian and German.”
“Oh! How old are you?”
“Little old for studies?”
“I couldn’t go there straight on, I enlisted later.”
“Enlisted? You’ve been to army?”
“No, I haven’t.” She smiled on her own joke and I tried to catch that feeling. “Wrong choice of words, I’m sorry.”