I Need This Job

I Need This Job

Applicant One

As I took my seat, I noticed of the young woman already sitting and waiting. She was obviously there for the same reason as me. I gave her a slight nod to acknowledge her presence and the somewhat awkward situation of sitting and waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

I decided not to sit across from her because I didn’t want to try to avoid eye contact for however long we were forced to sit here together, so I sat just a couple of seats down from her. With our backs against the same wall, I noticed that she was playing on her phone.

Always playing on their phones. I don’t know what’s become of this generation. They can’t be bored for two minutes. Besides, she could be called back for her interview any second, shouldn’t she be preparing, rehearsing questions and answers? I swear, this generation is never prepared. They aren’t willing to put in the necessary time to get where they want to go. No, they just expect it to be handed to them.

I can’t imagine they would consider hiring someone like her. She’s too old to be going for some entry level position like this and too young to have the experience and insight necessary to actually be successful. No, I can’t imagine they’d go for her over me.

They’ll take one look at my resume, and I’ll be a shoo-in. They’ll see a middle-aged guy who was a teacher for years and know that I’ll be able to work with teenagers. That I'll be patient and able to explain things. Plus, they’ll see how smart I am. I have a master’s degree for God’s sake! Yep, they’ll take one look at that young girl playing on her phone and will be begging me to jump on board.

Of course, it would be ideal if I didn’t need this job, by life happens. I always saved. I took care of my money. We didn’t take vacations in the summers. We didn’t help pay for our kids’ college. No, once they turned eighteen, they were on their own. We made sure we had enough, but the best laid plans.

Maybe I should explain that to them? How much detail would they want? Would they want to know that I’m a widower? Would they want to know about those past five years after I retired where I spent all my time driving her to doctors’ appointments that I knew wouldn’t make a difference?

No, they’re not looking to take on some charity case. No one wants the interview to be some pity party. They’re going to hire the very best person they can and that’s that. They’re not going to care about me as an individual. They’re not going to want to get to know me. They just want the person that they can squeeze the most out of and that’s all.

They’re going to take one look at this sad old man and tell me to take a hike. I don’t even know why I’m wasting their time or mine. This is dumb. What have I really got to offer? The only job I was ever able to do was teach which has nothing to do with this.

Plus, to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy teaching in those last few years. Kids changed and I couldn’t change with them. With all their phones and social media or whatever, I never knew what they were talking about. I would say some perfectly normal word that I’ve used my whole life and suddenly the whole class would start laughing but they wouldn’t explain why this normal word or that normal word was suddenly so funny.

I should just leave. I’m going to embarrass myself. Actually, I’m already embarrassing myself just by sitting here. That’s it, I’m out of here.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself up out of my chair. As I stood up to go, the door to the office swung open.

“Sir, we’re ready to see you now.”

Applicant Two

I made sure to get here early. I wanted them to see that I was reliable and that I cared. I pulled out my phone to read through their website one more time when an old man walked in. He looked over at me and we both recognized that we were here for the same job.

After looking my body up and down one time, he took his seat a few chairs away from me. I pretended not to even notice him. God, I hope they call one of us back soon. I kept looking at the website, scrolling through to glean any last information that might be helpful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the old guy glancing around the room. Why couldn’t he just pretend to look at his phone like a normal person. He was making me so uncomfortable. Old guys are the worst. They always seem so out of it. Then they get pissed off when the world doesn’t just hand them everything for being old. Clearly, he never figured out how to succeed, which is why he’s here today, expecting them to just hand him this job.

Why would they even consider hiring him? He’s clearly lived long enough to cycle through several failed jobs and yet here he is, a couple of weeks away from the retirement home trying to get some entry level position. I don’t think I want to work at place that would choose him over me.

Although, to be fair, I don’t have much of a resume to speak of. Here I am, a middle-aged woman with almost no work experience. I hope they see all the volunteer work I’ve done at my kids’ school and see that I’m a go-getter. That I’m someone who doesn’t just do work for money, but because I care. I hope they take one look at that disheveled old guy and make the logical decision.

Of course, I honestly can’t believe I’m even in this situation. Everything was perfect. The only mistake I made was putting all my trust in him. In hindsight, what was I thinking? I feel so stupid. Everybody told me not to marry him, but he seemed so invincible, unstoppable. He was going to take me further than anyone else could.

God, what am I supposed to tell the interviewer? Should I go into all the sordid details, or should I just tell them to Google my soon to be ex-husband? Yes, that’s what I’m gonna do. They’re going ask, “Why do you want this job?” and I’m going to answer, “Just Google my ex-husband.

And then they’re going to know what everyone else knows. That I’m some stupid fool who hitched my wagon to a scumbag. And they’ll want to know how stupid am I? Was I blind to what was going on? Was I complicit in some way? Did I not know what kind of man I married? Do I care more about money than I do about doing what is right?

They’re going to take one look at this sad, middle-aged mom and tell me to take a hike. What am I doing? I know I need this, but what am I doing with my life? Or, more accurately, what did I do with my life? Why didn’t I finish college? Him. Why didn’t I learn skills? Him.

Even my kids hate me. In fact, they seem to still like him more than me even though he’s the reason we lost everything. I think they respect him for making all that money even if it was through lying and cheating while they see me as just some stupid housemaid who’s probably the reason the whole house of cards came crashing down. I ask them to do anything, and they just roll their eyes and talk to me like I’m some idiot. Which, maybe I am an idiot.

I feel so humiliated, and now I have to go and explain my humiliation to a stranger who is literally here just to judge me. That’s it, I’m out of here.

I turned off my phone, took a deep breath, and stood to leave just as the office door swung open.

“Ma’am, we’re ready to see you now.”