Everyone's Classical until they meet Jazz.
I was the run of the mill. I followed the tracks. I didn't break the earth below my feet.
And why should I have? My mill was just fine, the earth was easy, and the track was down a bright little road with sunny little steps. So I followed it, happily. While others lamented about hardships and worries, I slipped on by and tried not to let anyone know just how easy I had it. Good parents, good part of town, good looks, and good thoughts; my life was cream and my start was breezy. I ate my breakfast, and studied at school. I could count the pimples I had throughout my life on one hand. Life was handing others lemons, and I was getting fresh-squeezed juice and a pat on the back.
Some girls want a boy to fix. I get that. It's the plot of a million movies and ten million books. Yes! It's *so* romantic how he's had such a troubled past and now he's learning to love through the touch of a woman. Gosh. Wow. My heart bleeds.
Boys know it too. They play it up. Harden their faux shell on purpose just so Miss Love can break it open and claim the man within. But for me? No thanks. Not interested. Move along. I'll be just fine without you're bullshit.
So there I am, button-nosed and twinkly-smiled. Educated. Up-to-dated. Emancipated.
You could usually catch me half-way through business, in jeans and a blouse or a dress and some tights, hair thrown into tail or comfortably down. I don't need to try hard to impress, nor do I need to dress for success; it just comes my way, served on a platter, easy peasy.
Laura caught me with a hand at the bottom of a box, trying to retrieve a folder without pulling everything else out with it. She wasn't talking *to* me, she was talking *at* me, looking around the office as she rushed through her gossip. I had free reign to roll my eyes and groan, but I had to actually butt in and *tell* her that I didn't care who said this and that and the other, and that I'd be hiring whomever fit our bill and that I didn't have time to listen right now.
I walked back into my office and shut the door behind me. Only after I sat down did I look out through the glass.
The office was in a tussle. The ecosystem was disturbed. The girls were grouped and like startled ducks, talking and looking and quacking.
Maybe I should have listened to what Laura had been saying.
Whatever.
The interviews started. I got through the lot. It was my whole afternoon, and the office was down to the skeleton crew by the time I was done. The real workers. The people who actually did things around here.
I finished up and tidied.
There was a little knock on the door, then it opened. "I'm here for the interview."
I scoffed. "It's a little late today, don't you think?"
"Sorry..."
"Sorry?"
Another eye roll. Fine. Whatever. Let's get this over with. I looked at him. He was sort of soft on the eyes, he carried an immediate aura of vulnerability, like he was way out of his depth. Lost out at sea.
"Resume?"
"I didn't bring one."
"Oh... okay." I looked lightly around the room, trying not to be too... harsh. "Well... then..." table tap-tap and a *tut tut tut* "...Tell me about yourself."
"I'm looking for a job."
I lifted my hands a little and closed my eyes in second-hand embarrassment. "Come on, dude. Are you serious? Don't you respect my time?"
"I... this... it's my first time."
"Well, usually, when you apply for a job, you bring your resume, and you arrive within some semblance of a reasonable time."
He just stared at me.
