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“I’ve seen as much from the resumes and letters of recommendations from most of the other candidates we’ve interviewed. They are thankless and lackluster. Hoping to work with me, as if I’m some charity. Some distributor of free handouts,” she says. “But you look like you could hold up to my demands.”
Demands.
That has a strange ring to it and even stranger vibe. Something I’m not quite sure how to interpret but know I can’t ignore. Before my brain can get me to messed up over what I’m feeling and why, Charlotte jumps in.
“What Ms. Vanacore is trying to say,” she says, allowing me to focus back on her for a moment, “is that she has very particular ways she wants her work done, and her office handled.”
She leans forward a bit, allowing me to see a huge engagement ring on one of her fingers.
“She has very tight deadlines. Huge caseloads,” she adds, emphasizing that last bit. “I’m talking on a daily basis, not weekly. It’s this kind of thing that most candidates for the job didn’t like. This is where they started negotiating that workload and those demands.”
“But you don’t seem like you’re the type to do that — refuse my specific instructions or needs,” says Vanacore, bringing my attention back to her and back to the hands she’s folded on the desk in front of her.
Again, her rings capture my attention and signal to me of her wealth, power, and dignity.
“Are you, Tommy?”
I nod my head, thinking I’m shaking it. Until I realize what I’m doing, and quickly change it.
“Yes, I mean, uh, n-no, ma’am. I understand completely. I have specific ways I require other people on my floor to do their work, especially if they’ve come up to me and asked me to help them. Or do it for them, as is the case most times, just so everything can be uniform and not get spat back to us by the partners.”
“I’m very demanding, Tommy,” says Vanacore, fixing me with her eyes again. “Very particular. I nitpick. I lecture, and I scold, when necessary.”
The look in her eyes reminds me of an old-fashioned mother-figure type. The kind who wouldn’t hesitate to use a very fancy looking cane as part of her lecture or scolding. A thought that has me shifting in my seat and seeing her in a different light. Not as someone who might be putting a spell on me, but someone who might honestly wish to help me and give me the benefit of the doubt.
“I am firm on my requirements but I am fair. And I don’t just pick anyone, Tommy. When I like someone, I like them. And it’s very hard for me to like the majority of men and women I’ve seen here.”
She pauses, nibbling lightly on a fingernail.
“But I like you. You’re young, but you have a good work ethic. You’re not the snappiest dresser, but you’ve got a grasp of how to communicate properly and effectively.”
I blush, hating the fact that this damn suit brings me so much unwanted attention, but I remind myself that I can’t lose my poise.
“Nearly every person we’ve interviewed has slouched in their chairs, has become informal, or even brought out their stupid cell phones. But not you. You’ve kept it all professional and well mannered.”
“Thank you,” I say, hearing those words squeak a little. “Thank you, Ms. Vanacore.”
“I don’t flatter, Tommy.”
She licks her lips.
“Flattery may work for some folks, but I only tell it like it is. I only will tell you something good about yourself if you’ve earned it.”
I nod, feeling sweaty behind my ears.
What’s with this woman? And what’s with the way she’s making me feel?
My face has begun to warm under her words and energy. Again, I’m not sure if it’s due to something I’m feeling, or the power and presence of her eyes and whatever aura she’s getting me with.
I’m not sure how I’m feeling about her, but it’s not really what I should be feeling at the moment. Not during this interview, and not toward my potential boss.
“I’d say I’m inclined to give you a try,” says Ashton. “Based on your skills and the references you brought, those alone would be enough for me to strongly consider you.”
I nod quickly. I murmur some thanks to him.
“I’d say you’ve definitely outgrown your time on the associate’s floor,” Charlotte says. “I’m a bit of a go-getter myself, so I know what it’s like to feel stifled and limited by the job you have versus the job you want.”
She smiles and neatly organizes my papers.
“If it were up to me, I’d offer you the job right here. Right now. You clearly care about this company and the work you do for it, so nothing would make me happier than to give you a promotion.”
