The Interview…

Jim and I paused in front of the door…it was wooden with the kind of frosted glass you can’t see through.

“Do I look okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” he assured me.  I wished he’d worn something other than the pants with the bleach spot on them…I’d have to get the black marker out and fix that later…

I turned the knob and opened the door.  The office was rather dark…I wondered if we’d come to the wrong place.  I introduced us to the ancient receptionist behind the wooden desk, twice (she needed a repeat after adjusting her hearing aid)…she waved us towards another door to her right.  We knocked, and went in.

A thin man sat behind another desk, identical to the one in the outer office.  He was wearing a rumpled black suit which was set off by a jaunty red bow tie.  He did not smile or get up, but motioned us to sit in two hard-looking chairs in front of his desk.  Our nervousness growing, we did as we were “told.”  The desk was piled with papers, and thick, dusty-looking books with leather bindings.

The man cleared his throat before speaking. “Glad you could join me…I was expecting you at one,” he said, checking his watch (which I noticed had a rotary dial – how quaint).

Jim rose to the occasion, “I’m sorry we’re late, but I misplaced my keys, and once I’d found them, we hit that construction on the highway.”

I jumped in, anxious to get this show on the road.  “We sent the application…I trust that you received it?”

“Of course, Ms. M.!,” the man replied.  “That is the reason for this meeting…to review your application.  We do…” (he paused to blow his nose) “have a few questions.”

“What would you like to know?” I asked.

“Your degree is in Broadcast Journalism, Ms. M.  Is that correct?” he began, as he looked at our completed application.

“Well, um, I didn’t graduate.  I dropped out to move to Newfoundland.”

“Newfoundland?” he repeated disbelievingly.

“Yes,” I replied.  “I was young and stupid, and I was in love.” 

Shaking his head, he continued: “It says here, Ms. M., that you own a bookstore, and yet you have no income.  How is that possible?”

“Well, sir,” I replied.  “My dad and I own the store together…he uses his pension to finance it, and I’ve been putting in sweat equity for the past ten years.” 

The man gave me a quizzical look.  “Ten years?” 

“Yes,” I mumbled.  “Ten years, but I’ve almost always had another job, until I got laid off last year.”

“Well, at least Mr. V. is gainfully employed,” he replied condescendingly. 

“I’ve been looking for another job,” I protested.  “I just haven’t found the right fit yet!  And I do a blog.”

He went on, as if he hadn’t heard me.  “What kind of books does the bookstore sell?” he asked. 

“Old hardcovers,” I said.

“Very good,” he murmured, as he made a note on the page.  “Now, Mr. V.  You have a degree in computer science, but apparently you have some difficulty spelling.  How do you handle that?” the man asked, staring expectantly at Jim.

Jim blushed.  “I Google words I’m not sure how to spell, and I have Spell Check on my Blackberry.”

The man added to his notes.  “Why do you want to do this?” he asked.

“Because I think it’s important!” I answered enthusiastically.  “Almost nobody else wants them…they’re throwaways!  Jim and I are excellent parents!”

“All right,” the man said, as he picked up a thick packet of paper from his desk.  He passed it over.  “Sign here, Ms. M.  Initial here.”  Jim added his signature and initials in the appropriate places.

Jim and I beamed as we looked at each other…after all the months of anticipation, this was finally going to happen!

The man stood up, and opened a safe in the wall, checking over his shoulder as he dialed the combination to make sure we weren’t able to see the numbers.  He retrieved a manila envelope from the safe and brought it over, laying it on the desk in front of me.

Jim let me open it…there it was!  Our obsolete word: veteratorian, an adjective meaning subtle.  I hugged the paper to my chest.  We had promised to use veteratorian at every possible opportunity to prevent its extinction. 

You too can adopt an obsolete word…just go to savethewords.org .  Take two if you can handle it!  Thanks to my friend, Lin, at The Absence of Alternatives  for turning me on to this site!

P.S. I just made all that stuff about the application form up…had you going though, didn’t I?