Chapter 58 INTERVIEW IN PROGRESS

"I like to keep these interviews pretty conversational, you know, as opposed to me asking you questions and you answering. That kind of boilerplate structure feels too... stuffy... to me, you know what I mean?"

"Right," she replied, "But I'm way ahead of you on this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly surprised.

"I actually made a little presentation on why you should hire me," she said with a smile, pulling out a USB stick from her portfolio. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing at a laptop hooked up to a projector.

"Oh... sure." I said, pleasantly surprised at her going above and beyond like this. She stood up from her seat, running her hands down her hips, smoothing out her tight skirt over her rear.

"Don't seem so surprised Randy," she began with a laugh, stepping towards the projector. "I don't know if you've heard, but I have a bit of reputation." I held my breath, wondering what she was about to say. "I'm a very good interview," she said with a knowing smile, as if in on the joke.

"Right." I said with an even laugh. She tapped away at the laptop for a few moments before the front page of her presentation projected onto the wall.

"There we go..." she said to herself. She slid off her jacket and set it on the back of her chair, exposing her smooth, bare arms, clad only in the short sleeves of her top. With the slight bulkiness of her jacket removed, her large breasts were even more noticeable, standing out proudly from her chest. I quickly looked away, hoping she didn't notice.

I dimmed the lights slightly with a remote to make the image on the wall clearer. She took a deep breath, stood next to the projection, and turned to me. "So, before I begin, I want to make a deal with you." she started.

"Sure, what is it?" I asked, curious.

"The case I'm about to make is very... unorthodox," she began. "All I ask is that you agree to hear me through, because I think I can make the case as to why I am the absolute best woman for this job. You might not agree with me at the beginning, but if you hear me out, I think I can change your mind."

"Deal." I replied warmly, willing to give her a chance.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," she said with a slight smile and a pointed look. She tapped a button on the projector remote to begin the presentation. The first page of the presentation was very familiar. They were words I knew well.

How to Get a Job

1)Know Yourself Before I Meet You.

2)Do Your Research!

3)Control Your Image, Change the Conversation to Emphasize Your Strengths

4)Set Yourself Apart.

5)Cliché's Make My Eyes Glaze Over.

6)Don't be Afraid to Blow Me Away.

7)Think Outside the Box.

8)Know When to Ignore This List.

"Now, I am sure I'm not the first person to base their interview around your list of tips," she began, gesturing to the list projected on the wall, my list of eight tips to get hired. "And, I have to admit, as badly as your dad shove these tips down our throats, there are some pretty good ones here. And to prepare for this, I have to confess even I studied them," she said with a laugh, every gesture she made causing her breasts to bounce ever so slightly. 'Stop it, Randy,' I warned myself. "Now, I didn't want to just recite them and answer them one by one. I wanted to put my personal spin on them. It took a while, but I think I figured it out."

"To summarize, I know myself very well. I've done a hell of a lot of research. I know my image and how to use it. I know my strengths and how to set myself apart. I hate clichés, and I am very good at rocking people's words. And trust me, this presentation is gonna be so far outside the box, so far away from what this list was designed for, that you won't know how you didn't see this coming."

"Bring it on." I challenged her, amused and impressed by the effort she was putting in to this. She wasn't exactly known as the hardest of workers, so this was refreshing to see. . .

"I think the biggest thing here for me is knowing myself and changing the conversation," she resumed. "I've looked at the other candidates and compared them to myself, and quite honestly, in any appreciable way, they've got me beat. They all have the experience, the education, the training, the sparkling reputation... and I don't. I get that. I know my place, my role, and how I got here. So, if you're just going off of a resume, I'll probably lose."

"Okay." I said, curious as to where she was going with this, surprised at her still confident tone while acknowledging her own weaknesses.

"But what I'm going to do here is to convince you to ignore the resume. I'm going to convince you to ignore the degrees and the experience and all of that bullshit, cause none of it really matters anyway." she said, looking right at me with a serious expression. I gave her a quizzical look.

"And how do you intend to do that?" I asked.

"Simple... I change the conversation." she took a deep breath before advancing. "If you want to hire an assistant, the perfect little worker bee, you can choose one of them," she said, pointing out the door. "But you're not gonna be hiring an assistant, Randy," she said, looking at me with a knowing smirk.

"What am I going to be hiring, then?" I asked, interested.

"You're hiring not what you ask for but what you need. What you've always needed, what any man of your stature needs. Like I said, you're not going to hiring an assistant," she paused and stepped closer, leaning over the edge of the desk, looking right at me, before speaking her next words slowly and clearly.

"What you need is a slut."