The Interview - Part 4
Searching deeply into Bobo Bridges’ combover, I waited for it to bounce up and down in sync with peals of belly thumping laughter. I eyeballed his hands to see if they would abruptly begin slapping his knees uncontrollably in maniacal hilarity. I fixed my suspicious glare on his throat, knowing the glug glug glug of an adam’s apple in on a mean joke was arriving soon. Nothing happened. Was he being earnest? I looked down at my pants to make sure I didn’t poop myself.
“Are you for real, Mr. Bridges? You really want to hire me?”
“Mmmmmmyessss!! You’d be perfect for the position! You’ll be in charge of keeping paper clips stocked. Any stupid twit could do it. But I’m not trying to build a team of stupid twits, you see?”
“I’m better than a stupid twit?”
“Absolutely sort of! Human resources is like a jigsaw puzzle. If I used enough glue, I could make any pieces connect together, Nate. The trick to it is to put the CORRECT pieces together. Think about your penis. You can’t just go home and throw your penis in between the mattress and the box springs of your bed without a heated towel, a plastic sandwich baggy, and a few tablespoons of astroglide, can you?"
“I’m not sure.”
This whole situation was beginning to remind me of that old Groucho Marx joke via Woody Allen about how he wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have someone like him for a member. I’ve sent my resume out to hundreds of potential employers for hundreds of jobs I’m qualified for and this is the only guy who wants me? Clearly, there’s something wrong with me. But even more clearly, there’s something wronger with the Burning Bridges Greeting Card Company. Is there another job out there? Is a cheese sandwich in the hand really better than two cheese sandwiches in the fridge?
I then said something I grew to regret 3 seconds later.
“I’m going to have to weigh my options, Mr. Bridges.”
Bobo’s standout smile turned into a wan frown and he immediately reached across his desk to take the can of Slice I was drinking. “You’re not going to need this Lemon-lime Slice then.”
I instinctively pulled my arm up in a manner suggesting I might bitchslap him.
“Hold it, Bobo.”
Should I take the job?!?!