Those emerald eyes of his flick between mine, trying to understand what’s going on. I shake his hand and grin. “I’mGoldie.”
Still, he looks confused. When our handshake ends, I explain.
“Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. I’m Goldie, and that’s not a common name. And then to be sitting next to Kurt, I don’t know, it’s kind of funny.”
He grins, exposing a mouthful of pristine teeth. He no doubt had braces and bleach, or veneers, or a little of all. It’s a gorgeous, perfect smile. Truly. “I get it. And that is pretty funny.” He strokes his large hand down his chin while he studies me. “I think it’s a sign.”
“Yeah?” I ask, one eyebrow arched.
He nods, and the fluorescent tube light above makes his hair almost glow and shine. This is the hair of a man I would have dated and probably lost my mind over in the city. I don’t know what’s happening to me, though, because now that I’m in Oakcreek, this man doesn’t do much for me.
In fact, he’s sitting a little close. He reminds me of someone from my past, and not in a good way.
“A sign I should ask you for your number.”
I proceed to give him my number, even though I just decided I’m not hugely attracted to him. I do realize, though, that there is an element of “getting back in the saddle” that requires bogus dates. Nice suit guy could maybe be good for a few dates. Also, I’m just not good at saying no when I mean no.
Pathetic… no?
A moment later, I’m called back, and Kurt is completely out of my mind the moment I slide into the chair near the woman interviewing me.
We start out with basic interview stuff.
Tell me about yourself.
Tell me your strengths and explain where you’re weak.
Describe a time when you had to manage two people who didn’t agree.
What qualities do you possess that will help you drive the company forward?
All of those were easy; I pulled from experience because I was truly exceptional at my PR job.
Thirty minutes into the interview, and I’m feeling so good. Nailing it and having a comfortable, witty rapport with Ms. Laws, the former head of HR. She’s leaving, and it’s her job I’d be taking.
“One last question,” Ms. Laws says as she crosses her legs at the ankle. She sat next to me when we began the interview, versus across the desk from me, and I liked that.
I smile and nod. “Hit me.”
“What made you interested in Human Resources?”
I’m not, I think, but don’t say. For some reason, Atticus is on my shoulder like the dirty devil I never asked for.Be real. His words come back to me. Maybe it is good advice? Maybe it’s not? Either way, I can’t think quickly enough on my feet to give her a formulated response so…I’m real.
“Truthfully, I didn’t want to be in Human Resources. I adored Public Relations. Absolutely adored it. But I had a personal relationship with the team manager at my last job, and things went sideways. I was unfairly terminated but didn’t pursue any legal recourse because I was emotionally damaged by things that transpired.
I moved to Oakcreek, took some time off, and found a headhunter to help me find a job that fits my skills. After an aptitude test and workshopping some of my soft skills with him, he advised me to try this. He believes I would be good at it. I don’t know if I could sit here and say I want this job as much as someone with a degree in HR does, but I can tell you I want to be successful.
I want to feel my worth and help people. I want to solve problems and be a person employees can come to. And I work hard. I work unbelievably hard, and I would push myself daily to learn, do better and provide every single iota of service I can to the employees.”
My heart is racing, and I’m pretty sure my pulse is throbbing in my throat. I’m grateful her eyes stay on mine as she processes my brutally honest response. After a moment where I’m rethinking my answer—fuck! I should’ve just said I live and breathe HR, and I want this job with all my might–she responds.
“I value honesty over bullshit, so thank you for telling me this isn’t your dream job when it’s not.”
Immediately, my shoulders slope with relief. We share a smile before she shakes my hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
When I leave there, nice suit guy is gone, and it’s a relief. I feel good. I think that went well. And for the first time in a long time, I feelvalued. I don’t know why. It’s not like I know if I got the job yet. But still, I got dressed up, went somewhere, had a purpose, had a meaningful conversation, and felt valued by her.
After chatting with Delilah at the bottom of my apartment stairs, I make my way up and am struggling with the key in the lock when my phone vibrates. I push inside and dig around in my purse to find it. I hate missing calls. I kick the door shut as I raise my phone to my ear.