As you walk down to Personnel, you realize that Ashley never told you her friend's name. You think hard to figure out how you'll ask the interviewees; you don't want the others thinking someone has an in. You see Tom outside his office, smiling and holding a stack of papers.
"Hey, . I'm glad you can help out," Tom says, shaking your hand. "There's no way for me to handle all these applicants today, and I'd have had to send some home. I owe you one." He gives you a manly slap on the shoulder.
"No problem, Tom. I didn't have a heavy workload today, so it all works out."
"Here are the resumés and applications for the intern spot," Tom says, handing you about half of his stack of papers. "We've got six interviewees, so I gave you three. We're on a kind of tight schedule, so you'll have 45 minutes to talk to each one. Remember that they need basic computer skills and at least a little Word. Your first one is in Room 4, and she's expecting you in about five minutes. Maybe you'd better skim through her resumé first. She's on top." He turns and heads into his office.
You smirk at his unintended innuendo, and the image of a young college co-ed bouncing on top of your manhood flashes through your head. You shake your head to dispel it and calm your growing stiffy. You start looking over the top resumé. Her name is Sarah Branson, and her experience looks good.
A few minutes later, you step into the small interview room, just big enough for a small table and three chairs. A whiteboard with incomprehensible technical scribbles adorns one wall. The candidate has her back to the door, leaving the bigger chair at the back of the room for you. You can see that she has shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She stands as you enter and turns to you, extending her hand. She is tall and lovely with intense green eyes.
“Hi Sarah. I’m . I’ll be interviewing you for the intern position. Please sit down,” you say very professionally, looking her in the eye. She has high cheekbones, full lips, a straight, smallish nose, and a heart-shaped face. Very pretty. Those eyes seem to see right into you.
“Oh, Hi . Good to meet you,” she replies, giving you a cute, toothy smile. She turns, and as she sits, you scan her body. She is a little over five and a half feet tall, and, judging by her smart suit, she has some real curves, both top and bottom. From what you can see below her knee-length skirt, her legs are nicely shaped.
You walk around the table and sit down, glancing through her resumé. She is a little pensive, waiting for you to say something and sitting on the edge of her chair. |