“You must be Mackenzie,” she said.
I shook her hand. “Yes.” I felt so dowdy next to her.
“Come with me,” she turned and waved a hand for me to follow her. We walked down the corridor with its green plush carpet, her heels leaving imprints. The walls were a medium shade of purple, something that tittered on the pink side. The color actually complimented her jacket.
We turned down another corridor, this one shorter which bent to the left at the end. There were only two offices in this stretch of the hallway. Barbie opened one of the two closed door with the name plaque BARBARA HYNES on it. Diagonally across the hall was the other office, door closed with a name plaque ANDREW RILEY.
It wasn’t a large office, just big enough for her desk and chair, two smaller chairs on the other side of the desk and a long short file cabinet. But the décor was designer, the file cabinet was chocolate brown wood that looked like three double drawer cabinets with one fitted piece of flat top over them. It matched the desk and chairs. The carpet was a light beige and the walls were a shade or two darker beige. On the side walls were beautifully framed large landscape photographs, each graced with shades of orange and red. One of them could have been a sunset or a sunrise. I decided it was a sunrise.
“Take a seat,” Barbie indicated to one of the two chairs in front of her desk, as she maneuvered into her desk chair. There was a thin manila folder to the side on her desk and she pulled it in front of her. She opened it and took out a couple of sheets of paper. She turned them towards me and laid a heavy looking silver pen on top of them.
“I’ll take a copy of your driver’s license while you fill these out.” She didn’t ask, she stated this to me.
I reached into my bag for my wallet, but stopped as I held it in front of me. “Can you tell me a little about the company?”
“Certainly. We are Arlington Press. We provide a service for college professors who are interested in reviewing textbooks that they might want to use for their curriculum.” She stopped as if that explained everything.
“And what would I be doing, if I took this job?”
She smiled, almost a smirk. “You will take phone calls from professors and their assistants. You will take their order, fill their order and then follow-up with them as to whether they would like to order the textbooks for their class.”
“Oh. Ok.” I handed her my driver’s license and she swiveled around so her back was to me. A machine whirred to life. She turned back and saw me staring at her. “That will take a couple of minutes to scan. If you could please fill out the application.”
“Yes, of course.” I took the pen. I was right, it was heavy. It was a short application that didn’t ask for references but did ask for the previous three year employment history. That included my short stint as a waitress at Pepper’s and I hesitated. I hoped they wouldn’t call on previous employers.
“Is there a problem?” Barbie asked.
“No. I just, well are you calling my previous employers for employment verification?”
“Perhaps. Is there a problem with that?”
I shook my head. I felt like a child next to Barbie who not only looked impeccable but exuded an air of confidence that made me feel smaller and smaller. I don’t think she was doing it intentionally. She seemed genuinely nice, but I felt like squirming in my seat as she sat there waiting for an answer from me.
“Not from Pepper’s. And my other job before that is fine too. It’s just that I don’t want the owner to know where I am applying for work.”
She opened her eyes wider as an invitation to continue.
“I worked for his company, you see, and I left. And I don’t want him to know where I am.”
“Did you embezzle from his company?”
I sat up straight, startled by the question. “No. No, nothing like that.” I considered that the way I was describing it, it could have sounded like I was hiding from him for sinister reasons. Best to be honest, but not too much information, maybe. “We dated. I broke up with him and he…”again I hesitated.
“He what? Stalks you?”
“No. No.”
Barbie leaned her upper body across her desk and said in a low voice. “Is he the father of your baby?”
I nodded.
“Has he ever hurt you, Mackenzie?”
“Not physically, no. I just don’t want him to know where I am. I’ve worked hard to hide myself from him.”
“I see.” She leaned back. “I suppose you have a W-2 or a 1099 from your employment time there?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Will that suffice for employment verification?”
“I’ll check with Mr. Riley. But quite frankly, Mackenzie, Mr. Riley only has you going through the application process as a formality. He intends on hiring you as long as you are a legal resident of the United States
“I am.”
“Then I don’t see any reason for calling your previous employer.”
My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t even known they were tense.
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