“Go up, straight up, past this section of the plant and through that small gate over there. The buildings there are offices and the HR is the last one there on the left.”

As she walked, she imagined Jimmy starring at her behind like how a painter stares at his almost complete masterpiece. When she looked back, Jimmy wasn’t there.

Wendy stopped and took a few deep breaths before she walked into the HR building. Looking left down the hallway, all she could see were marble floors, perfect lighting and closed office doors. It was the same situation on the right too, except for four office chairs against the wall where a middle-aged African man sat. He wore a white shirt with a brown and blue classic tie, black chino pants, and red All Star sneakers with secret socks or no socks. He had a flip file between his lap and folded hands.

“Hi,” the man said shyly.

“Hi, I’m… I’m here for the interview,” Wendy smiled.

“Me too, I was told to wait here.”

As she sat down, she wondered why Jimmy had held her up at the gate when someone was already up here. Guess he’s really one of those old men, she thought.

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Very early,” he shifted in his seat. “Eight, you?”

“Around half past eight and the security guard kept me at the gate for almost thirty minutes.”

“Jimmy?”

“Yes.”

The man left the conversation like that. He opened his flip file and focused on something intently, maybe interview questions and answers.

Where do you see yourself in five years? Wendy went over that one easily, she was very confident about her future.

A lady in a black skirt suit and a red blouse came out from a nearby office and walked to them.

“Good morning,” she said.

They replied.

“I hope you guys enjoyed your interviews, we’ll be calling you to let you know how they went.”

“We haven’t… I haven’t been interviewed,” Wendy said.

The African man dropped his narrow eyes to the floor, his thumb went to the right side of his chin and his index finger began to caress the left side softly. He shook his head with a disgusted look on his face, stood up, and walked out.

The lady smiled lightly, shrugged and walked back into her office.

A young Indian security guard with good hair and a big smile was at the gate when Wendy was leaving. His name, Yimmir, was handwritten on his name-tag.

***

Tell us: What do you think of this company’s interview style?