The federal inspector was coming today, and Jerry was sure this was going to be it for him. He didn't believe he worked very hard, and he doubted he could keep it together for an interview. He had barely gotten this job as it was. He had severe anxiety, and the thought of being interviewed had always terrified him. In fact, the interview for this job was the first he hadn't left early out of sheer terror. He knew he had anxiety, but feared therapy just as much. He always embraced his cowardice, and learned to live around it. However, when someone was coming to question exactly what he did and how he did it, it was hard to embrace the fear. He had been jittery all day. He really couldn't afford to lose his job. He worked at a California drug rehab center - one of the best in the state - changing rooms. He didn't get paid much, but the job had almost everything he wanted. Little human interaction, quiet, little supervision. But it still wasn't the best job. He had seen things he wished he hadn't. Rooms covered in bodily fluid, people screaming or crying, and most troubling, rooms empty after a single night. They were often cleaner than he had left them too, like someone was trying to hide any evidence they had ever been there. He didn't like to think about it anymore than that. Conveniently, his radio crackled into life. His boss was telling him it was time for his interview, and not to worry. That was easier said than done.
The room was cold, and she was beautiful. Her name was Sarah, and she was undeniably intimidating. He wasn't a guy who oggled or objectified women, but it didn't ease his anxiety any more. He was sweating far more than what was acceptable. She asked if he was ready to begin, but he barely heard her over his own thoughts. She asked him what he liked about working there, and he nervously spat out some answer about food. He couldn't believe himself. She asked "What could this facility be doing better to help patients?"
"Nothing. I don't know." He saw where this was going, but he couldn't stop the words already leaving his mouth. "It's just so sad, you know?"
"What do you mean?" she said, curiously.
He couldn't remember what happened next. He spat out some thoughts that were jumbled and complex about the rooms, the patients, and how he didn't know if he could handle it. What a terrible answer, he thought, I blew it. She thanked him for his time, and as he was walking out, he looked over her shoulder towards her notepad. "Employee therapy" she had written, and Jerry didn't know what to think. Part of him was happy, though. Maybe he didn't blow the interview after all.
The room was cold, and she was beautiful. Her name was Sarah, and she was undeniably intimidating. He wasn't a guy who oggled or objectified women, but it didn't ease his anxiety any more. He was sweating far more than what was acceptable. She asked if he was ready to begin, but he barely heard her over his own thoughts. She asked him what he liked about working there, and he nervously spat out some answer about food. He couldn't believe himself. She asked "What could this facility be doing better to help patients?"
"Nothing. I don't know." He saw where this was going, but he couldn't stop the words already leaving his mouth. "It's just so sad, you know?"
"What do you mean?" she said, curiously.
He couldn't remember what happened next. He spat out some thoughts that were jumbled and complex about the rooms, the patients, and how he didn't know if he could handle it. What a terrible answer, he thought, I blew it. She thanked him for his time, and as he was walking out, he looked over her shoulder towards her notepad. "Employee therapy" she had written, and Jerry didn't know what to think. Part of him was happy, though. Maybe he didn't blow the interview after all.