It’s not too late to turn back now.
Go away, you’re giving me a headache. I look around the stark room, which is strangely familiar. Sitting dead center on a patch of floating white marble flooring is a rose-white, made-to-look-vintage, pine desk. Tucked neatly underneath it is a pale-Paris-green, also pine, chair. Sitting in the upper right hand corner of the desk is a stack of books – various dictionaries and Stephen King’s book about writing. I hear Rob Thomas’s voice overhead and turn to inspect the room for hidden speakers.
What the hell are we doing here? Walk away, no RUN NOW.
The little voices in my head are wailing now.
“Brenda, thanks for making the time to speak with me today.” Where did she come from? Maybe I should have listened to my little voices. Applying for the job did seem like a good idea at the time. Hmmm?
“It’s my pleasure. I think.” I hope she appreciates my humor.
“I promise it’s not painful. This is a formality. The final decision is yours to make. I have no say in the matter.” But she’s the one holding the clipboard. Strange how she reminds me of my teacher, Mrs. Lopez, the one who told me I should pursue business.
“But this is an interview. I’m confused.”
“I can see that. This isn’t the typical job, nor is this the type of interview process where you are required to answer the same questions repeatedly. Such a waste of time, multiple interviewers asking the same questions, don’t you think?” She has a point.
“I don’t enjoy interviewing much. There’s a lot of posturing on both sides when there shouldn’t be, especially as it boils down to a personality match, a click or flick of a connection. It’s a lot like dating.” Her phone beeps.
“Yes it is. Can you give me a minute? I have to take this call.”
“Sure.” She leaves the same way she came in, through a door that fades in and out. The room blurs at the edges. Too much wine last night, not enough coffee this morning, no food, you pick.
You didn’t have wine last night. Think. You were sitting on your bed thinking about taking this job.
Oh yeah, the job.
You got all dreamy-eyed.. Pull yourself together, woman. We have to get out of here before… It’s too late.
She’s back. Let’s see what she has to say.
“My apologies for the delay. It’s a busy time for me. There are several applicants. Not all have the chops for the job, but they take the plunge anyway. It’s risky. Now where were we?” She looks down at her notes, turns over a blank sheet of paper, and scans the page before returning her gaze to me. “Oh yes, I remember. Have you read the Writer’s Job Description?” My head is bouncing up and down like one of those bobble-head dolls glued to the top of the dashboard in a beat-up ’78 Chevy pickup – the kind with an empty gun rack hanging over the back window – as it banks a tight curve on a gravel road.
What did she say?
“Risky?” My voice cracks. It’s hardly noticeable.
Are you kidding? Everyone with ears heard you.
Oh, shut up.
“It can be. For some it’s overwhelming, which is why I ask if you read the job description, thoroughly and completely.” I can’t disagree, I’m overwhelmed now and we haven’t started the interview.
“Can I ask…”
“Why do you look like Mrs. Lopez? And why does your office resemble my bedroom, except for the missing walls it’s almost the same. And where is the door?” She chuckles and sips her wine.
Where did the wine glass come from? Maybe we did have too much to drink.
“When a person applies for the job of writer, the interviewer takes on the form of doubt, in your case it’s the teacher who discouraged you from writing all those years ago. My job as the interviewer is to see if you’re ready to bulldoze over your past, present, and yes, your future doubt.”
“That’s twisted and kind of sick.”
“True, but it makes a person think twice before signing up. Should we proceed with the interview now?”
We’re goners. Life is never going to be the same.
I have a John Deere tractor gassed up and ready to roll over doubt and my nagging little voices should they appear. How about you?
Fav – if you would be so kind, after reading and sharing your thoughts about doubt, please hop on over and ‘LIKE’ my infant Facebook page. My future agent and fans, possibility Julia Roberts, Oprah, and even Mrs. Lopez, will be grateful. Of course, I will be ever indebted and promise to lend you my John Deere if you are ever in need.