The Interview


Ashley desperately tried not to fidget as the well-dressed woman sitting behind the mahogany desk stared at her over black wire-rimmed glasses. The woman’s lips were set in a harsh line as she glanced down and, once again, reviewed Ashley’s volunteer application for museum tour guide aide. Every now and again, the woman would hmmm or say, “Impressive.” Ashley wasn’t quite sure what could be so impressive; she never had a job before—unless you count babysitting on weekends. At those jobs, she had only made $8 an hour, so she wasn’t sure they really counted as jobs. Although they hadn’t paid her like “real” jobs, they had certainly felt real enough.

Maybe I should have expanded upon the numerous difficulties I had to overcome during my babysitting jobs, she thought, wishing that idea had occurred to her when she had answered the questionnaire. Three little lines of space was hardly enough room to adequately describe her experiences. Handling the havoc of babysitting had required all of her youthful energy, ability, and skill. Her mom had called those jobs enriching and invaluable achievements. Her dad had said they were questionable miscalculations, similar to deciding to hike the Rocky Mountains: it wasn’t until you were halfway up that you realized that you should have said “no” instead.

“You seem like a calm person,” the woman said as Ashley fought the nearly irresistible compulsion to smooth down her hair, a nervous gesture that would have proven the woman’s assumption incorrect.

Ashley looked at the woman’s nametag before responding so she could politely address the woman by name, per her mom’s advice. Ms. Sinclair, the nametag said. Ashley tried not to frown in her sudden anxiety. The receptionist had been Chandra, the security guard had been Isaac, and the other employees she had met between the entrance to the gift shop and the door to the office had been Jolie, Mercedes, and Dillon.

“Thank you, Ms. Sinclair,” Ashley said as confidently as she could, though she was understandably very intimidated.

“It is not enough to be calm or sedate,” Ms. Sinclair replied in a stern voice. “It is not enough to be civil or courteous. In order to do this job, you have to have great restraint. You must be able to smile with grace even as a horde of elephants charges toward you. Things can become quite hectic around here, and not everyone can handle erupting chaos.”