The Interview

Jenna tapped her foot impatiently against the rutted plastic of the train’s floor, waiting for the doors to close, for the train to move. Waiting to get closer to where she knew she belonged. It was only a quarter to eight, but the small car was already crowded.

There was a baseball game that day and people in the Cubs’ signature red and blue filled the plastic seats, chattering animatedly to each other despite the heat. She had anticipated the heat, had listened with a grimace when the lovely blond woman on the news had told her that temperatures were going to top 100 that day. Her dark hair was neatly pulled back in a bun and the garment bag slung over her arm held her suit jacket and a clean white top to change into. She had no illusions about how she would look after 45 minutes on a crowded train and several blocks of address hunting.

“Doors closing”

Chimes sounded, but the doors waited their customary thirty seconds before closing, which turned out to be just enough time to allow the sweaty man to run down the platform and attempt a heroic leap onto the train. She cringed as she saw the toe of his ratty sneaker catch on the doorway.

To his credit, the man did not fall. His iced latte, however, did, splattering down the front of the nearest person.

Her eyes widened as she took in the brown stain down her blouse and she tried to force herself to stay calm as she dug napkins out of her messenger bag and rabidly began wiping.

“I am so sorry,” he told her, leaning up against the barrier across the aisle. “I really didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s ok,” she said, only slightly bitter, still trying to control the stain.

Finally, she gave up, letting the damp brown wad of napkins rest in her palm. She’d toss them when she got off.

Relaxing slightly, she smiled at the man. For a middle-aged man, he did have a nice smile, and it made her feel a little better. His dark hair was cropped short, disguising the fact that it was receding slightly but his eyes were twinkling. He had been interestedly watching her attempts. He wore a slightly wrinkly, well-worn t-shirt, emblazoned with a band name she didn’t recognize and equally wrinkly khaki shorts.

“At least it cooled me off a little,” she quipped.

“Anything to help in this heat,” he said obligingly, toasting her with his empty plastic cup.

“You headed to see the cubs play?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “I’m actually kind of late for work.”

“You’re lucky you have a job that lets you wear what you want,” she said, and thought about it for a moment. “Actually, you’re lucky to have any job, in this economy.”

The silence hung for a few moments, filled by the heat and the excited chatter of their neighbors.

“How about you?” he asked. “You headed to work?”

“Nope,” she answered, and her smile broadened. “I’ve got an interview.”

“Oh,” he said darkly. “And I’ve ruined your outfit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she said, holding up her garment bag. “I’ve anticipated all contingencies. There’s a spare top in here.”

“This interview’s important,” she told him. “I wouldn’t let anything mess it up.”

“What’s so important about this one?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, letting the rattle of the train fill the space before she answered.

“Honestly?” she asked, wondering if she should tell him.

He nodded.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said quietly. “It’s a company that publishes children’s books, you know. And they’re the books I grew up on, the books I still love. The books I want to write someday.”

She met his eyes and saw that he was still listening closely.

“I think that a book you read when you’re little, it effects you like nothing you read when your older. It becomes a part of who you are. It shows you what’s important. Children’s books …. They teach you to dream. I want to be a part of that,” she finished her little monologue and was surprised to see that he was smiling dreamily at her.

“That’s actually, how I’ve always felt,” he told her. “And I hope you get your job.”

The train chugged on as they stood in silence, stopping and unloading its human cargo. She watched the people stream in and out of the car, unaware that he was watching her.

Jenna still had a few stops to go when it happened.

The elderly lady had been sitting in the seat beside the barrier for the entire trip and when she finally got up, she crossed the aisle to the exit on shaky legs, assisted with a cane. Jenna watched her as she stepped out of the car and onto the platform. People had just begun to flood in when Jenna saw the old woman fall.

She must’ve tripped over a loose board, but through the flood of humanity, Jenna saw her grimace in pain on the now-empty platform. No one was helping her.

“Why isn’t anyone helping her?” Jenna thought, considering the situation. She knew that look of pain. She couldn’t just leave the old woman out there on her own, could she?

No, she couldn’t. The next train would be along in five minutes, she reasoned. She could go out and see if the old woman was all right and then catch the next train and still be perfectly on time.

She pressed her lips, clutched her bag closer and squished through the milling crowd, stepping out of the car just as the doors closed. She knelt down next to the old woman.

“Are you all right, Ma’am?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

“I think… I twisted my ankle,” she replied. “My… my name is Claire.”

Claire tried to get up, only to wince and fall back down.

Jenna sighed. She might be late to the interview, but she didn’t really have a choice, did she?

No, she told herself, there was no choice.

“Let’s see if we can get you up,” she said gently.

With Claire’s arm slung around her neck and her arm firmly around Claire’s waist, the old woman rose slowly to her feet. With her garment bag slung over one arm and the older woman occupying her other, the couple hobbled down the platform, making slow, careful progress down the stairs and out onto the street.

“We should probably get you to the hospital,” Jenna said, thinking of her interview and trying not to think what time it was.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Claire said distractedly, focusing on getting down the stairs without putting weight on her injured foot.

“You know,” the older woman said, turning to look Jenna in the eyes as they finally reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs. “You’re a wonderful girl. I wish my grandchildren were like you.”

“Thank you,” Jenna smiled. She might miss the interview, she knew, but it was still worth it. The old woman’s smile made it worth it. And picturing Claire all alone, in pain, still stuck on that platform in the heat, she knew she’d done the right thing.

She managed to get Claire out of the station and into a cab with the help of one of the CTA attendants. The moment the cab disappeared, she bought a new ticket and ran back up the stairs, just in time to see a train depart.

She checked her watch. It was 8:50. Her interview was scheduled for 9:30.

Five minutes later another train arrived, less crowded this time, and she found a seat for herself. She paid no attention to the scenery flashing by, her eyes flicking between her watch and the diagram of stations on the wall. It was twenty minute ride. With any luck, she told herself, she could take arrive quickly, find the building, change in the bathroom, fix her hair and still be on time. She stared intently at the diagram, tense and concentrated. Finally, there was one stop to go. For a moment she wondered why the train wasn’t moving. Then the polite female voice rang out.

“Please be patient. We are waiting for signal clearance ahead. The train will be moving shortly.”

Two minutes of standing. Then five. When the train had been standing for ten minutes, it began to move again, finally bringing her to her stop. 9:25.

Dashing out of the station, she ran for the McDonald’s across the street, knocking people out of line to get to the bathroom, where she tore off her shirt, shoving her stained one in her messenger bag, she pulled the jacket out of the garment bag, which she also crumpled into the messenger bag. One more minute to straighten her hair. She cringed at the stains on her knees from kneeling on the platform and tried to brush off her pants as much as possible as she ran. The coffee stains on her suit pants were covered by the top, she hoped, shoving her way out of the McDonald’s and taking off down the street. It was only two more blocks to the building.

It was only in the elevator to the 58^th floor, as she was putting on her jacket, that she realized her top was inside out. She sighed and hoped no one would notice. And so, it was a slightly sweaty, disheveled young woman who met the neat, thirty-something woman standing by the reception desk, tapping her pointy-shoed toes against the black marble floor.

As the elevator doors slid open, Jenna took in the woman’s neat black pin-striped suit, shiny hair pulled back in a chignon and elegantly made up face. Clearly, the heat hadn’t affected this woman in the least. She couldn’t help feeling she was doomed, but this had always been her dream, so she forced herself to step out of that elevator and paste a smile on her face.

“Ms. Phillips?” she asked brightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ms. Clark?” the woman asked, looking as though she had an unpleasant smell under her nose, but shook her hand anyway. “It is now 9:38. Our arrangement was for 9:30, was it not?”

“Yes,” Jenna nodded. “Yes it was, but there were some … unforeseen circumstances… and some things I had to take care of.”

She couldn’t tell this well-coifed woman that she’d been helping an old lady off a train platform. For one thing, she couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth. For another, this woman didn’t seem likely to believe it anyway.

“I see,” Ms. Phillips answered frostily. “Follow me, please.”

There was only the sound of her heels clicking decorously on the marble as Jenna followed her into an austere glass-and-metal office with an equally imposing glass desk.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the minimalist plastic chair that faced the desk, as she eased into a leather office chair opposite.

“Tell me about yourself,” Ms. Phillips said, as soon as Jenna’s butt had touched the seat.

“Well,” Jenna began, blushing. “I’m a recent graduate from University and I’ve always loved children’s literature. I really feel that what we read as children impacts us most. I love reading children’s books and I feel that I would excel at writing them someday. I would love –“

“What editing experience do you have?” Ms. Phillips broke in. “It is an assistant editing position, after all.”

“I … umm…” Jenna said, thrown by the brusque tone in the woman’s voice. “I don’t have any real on-the-job experience, but I’m constantly writing and I’ve done a lot of editing at school, at the University’s tutoring center. And I always help my friends improve their essays.”

She ended hopefully and smiled at the woman.

“I’m afraid that’s all I need to know,” Ms. Phillips sneered.

“But…. that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked Jenna up and down.

“I’ve had quite a few interviews for this position,” she stated bluntly. “And seeing as none of the others were late or disheveled, or dirty, I think I’ll be selecting one of them.”

She shuffled the papers on her desk, leaving them in a neat stack before pushing her chair back and rising.

Jenna struggled to find words.

"That's not fair," she said, trying not to cry. "You don't understand how badly I want this job, or how much I've prepared for it. I've wanted to do this my whole life and I'm sure I'd be great at it, if you'd give me a chance."

“If you’ll come with me, I’ll see you out to the elevator,” Ms. Phillips added coldly.

“Thank you,” Jenna said. Those words were all she could manage to say without bursting into tears and she kept her eyes on the floor as Ms. Phillips pulled open her office door.

She walked into the hall, feeling Ms. Phillips’ glaring her down and immediately banged into someone. The man stumbled, but remained on his feet.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, looking up and fighting hard to keep tears from her eyes.

“It’s only fair,” he smiled at her.

She smiled back as she realized that the man from the train was looking back at her, grungy sneakers, wrinkled khakis and all.

“How’s that old lady doing?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” Jenna replied. “She had a twisted ankle, though. We found a cab. I’m sure she’s at the hospital by now.”

Jenna looked back at the neatly-suited Ms. Phillips to find her staring at the man.

“Mr. Thomas,” the woman said, the words coming out tightly. “I wasn’t expecting to, erm, see you this morning. And I wasn’t aware that you knew this …. young lady.”

Jenna’s eyes widened and she stared openly at the man as she realized who she was looking at. Thomas and Son’s publishing was the brainchild of the illustrious Mr. Thomas, who stood before her in dirty sneakers and an old t-shirt. He glanced at her and registered the shock on her face.

“Like you said, I’m really lucky to have a job where I can wear whatever I want.” He glanced at Ms. Phillips. “Or in this economy, any job.”

“I believe we have an open position for a junior editor, don’t we, Ms. Phillips?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I believe we do.”

“I think that this young lady would be perfect for it, don’t you Ms. Phillips?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied tersely. “I’m sure she would.”

“Why don’t we talk about it more in my office?” he asked, turning back to Jenna.

“I would love that, sir,” she grinned, not believing her luck.

“Would you like any coffee or tea?” he asked.

“Some water might be nice,” Jenna replied, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was.

“Ms. Phillips,” he asked, turning to lead Jenna down the hallway to larger corner office at the end. “Would you terribly mind bringing Ms. Clark a bottle of water?”

Sitting down in the plush chair that faced his desk, she couldn’t believe her luck as she turned to face the man who would help her build her future.