"Good morning, girls and gays," Beck said before she could stop the words, voice strangely loud in the quiet of the hiring manager's office. "And theys," she amended quickly, plopping herself into the chair opposite his desk and tucking her hands beneath her thighs.
The manager seemed to be considering her, judging by the slight knit of his brow, the thoughtful way he clicked his pen against the desk. Beck waited patiently, running through her head all the possible (asinine) things she should refrain from saying to avoid making a fool of herself. When he tilted his head to regard her, she had to swallow around a suddenly dry throat.
"Rebecca, is it?"
Beck blinked with a start.
"What?"
"Your name," he said mildly, reading off the monitor of his computer. "Rebecca Gardner."
"Please, Rebecca's my mother," Beck said easily, offering a vague wave of her hand. "Actually, her name's Brandi. I'm Beck."
"Beck," he echoed, throwing her an appraising look. It wasn't long before she could no longer take the agonizing stretch of silence, and she signaled her attempt to save this downward spiral with a nod.
"So, Beck," he continued with a nod of his own. "Tell me a little about yourself."
"I'm hilarious," was her immediate, deadpan answer. Idiot, she thought, but even that second of self-deprecation could not stop the onslaught of absurdity spilling out of her. "I'm a real hoot, y'know? Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I guess, but I make an adequate spork."
"More akin to a spoon," the hiring manager muttered under his breath, and Beck turned uncomfortably in her seat.
"Pardon?"
"I see you have some experience in retail," he continued without missing a beat, clicking his mouse a few times. Beck gave herself a pat on the back for not breaking into a sweat then and there. Most therapists would call that progress. "Can you explain this gap in your resume?"
"No I can't, I signed an NDA," Beck let it slip right out, straight-faced even as her heart began a concerningly rabbit-quick pace in her chest. Jail. Straight to prison. Or Hell, at least.
"Uh, for the record, that was a joke," she laughed, nerves fraying and her palms clammy as he fixed her with a look that made it clear he was less than impressed. "I was out of commission for a year, just some medical stuff. Recovery. Personal." Obviously?
"Yes, very funny," he deadpanned, and Beck only just managed to keep from wincing. "What makes you a good fit for us, Beck?"
"Well, as you saw, I have experience," she began, fidgeting anxiously. It seemed she simply could not help herself, unable to keep from digging her little hole as she continued. "But I'd say my real perks are my stellar personality, and I come with Heelys. We've got other options, though. Light-up Sketchers or speaker sneakers– I'm like a walking rave for the office."
"I'll keep that in mind," his hand returned to clicking the pen, and the muscles in Beck's back tensed. "What's your biggest weakness, Beck?"
"I couldn't tell you," her body didn't lose its tension even as she leaned back in her seat. "I've got a bad back though, if it counts. Mostly from carrying everyone else's slack at my last job."
The wobbly smile she offered him was met with yet another wry look.
"You seem to think highly of yourself, Beck."
"Would it be better if I groveled? I can grovel. I'm good at it." She adjusted in her seat again, leaning forward with her elbows against her knees. "I don't think I can get into my angsty backstory just yet, though. You gotta reach Level 10 Friendship first, at least."
"Do you ever take anything seriously?" The manager lifted a hand to scrub over his face tiredly.
"Not if I can help it. Makes things uncomfortable."
"This is uncomfortable, Beck."
"It could be way more uncomfortable, John. Is it okay if I call you John?"
"It would be fine," he sighed. "If my name weren't Jeff."
"Oh– okay, Jeff," Beck amended accordingly, clearing her throat and leaning back in her seat again, seemingly unable to keep still. "This will all go way smoother if we both just accept that I've commandeered this interview."
"Is it just me, or do you make everyone around you nervous?"
"Do I make you nervous?"
"Hardly, although I think I'll find myself exhausted before the week is out."
"Well, Jeff," she clicked her tongue. "If it makes you feel better, I get that a lot."
"It doesn't."
"Damn." Beck slumped in her seat, deflated as she considered her options. It wasn't long before she perked up again, peering at him hopefully.
"Wait, 'before the week's out'? Did I get the job?"
The manager seemed to be considering her, judging by the slight knit of his brow, the thoughtful way he clicked his pen against the desk. Beck waited patiently, running through her head all the possible (asinine) things she should refrain from saying to avoid making a fool of herself. When he tilted his head to regard her, she had to swallow around a suddenly dry throat.
"Rebecca, is it?"
Beck blinked with a start.
"What?"
"Your name," he said mildly, reading off the monitor of his computer. "Rebecca Gardner."
"Please, Rebecca's my mother," Beck said easily, offering a vague wave of her hand. "Actually, her name's Brandi. I'm Beck."
"Beck," he echoed, throwing her an appraising look. It wasn't long before she could no longer take the agonizing stretch of silence, and she signaled her attempt to save this downward spiral with a nod.
"So, Beck," he continued with a nod of his own. "Tell me a little about yourself."
"I'm hilarious," was her immediate, deadpan answer. Idiot, she thought, but even that second of self-deprecation could not stop the onslaught of absurdity spilling out of her. "I'm a real hoot, y'know? Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I guess, but I make an adequate spork."
"More akin to a spoon," the hiring manager muttered under his breath, and Beck turned uncomfortably in her seat.
"Pardon?"
"I see you have some experience in retail," he continued without missing a beat, clicking his mouse a few times. Beck gave herself a pat on the back for not breaking into a sweat then and there. Most therapists would call that progress. "Can you explain this gap in your resume?"
"No I can't, I signed an NDA," Beck let it slip right out, straight-faced even as her heart began a concerningly rabbit-quick pace in her chest. Jail. Straight to prison. Or Hell, at least.
"Uh, for the record, that was a joke," she laughed, nerves fraying and her palms clammy as he fixed her with a look that made it clear he was less than impressed. "I was out of commission for a year, just some medical stuff. Recovery. Personal." Obviously?
"Yes, very funny," he deadpanned, and Beck only just managed to keep from wincing. "What makes you a good fit for us, Beck?"
"Well, as you saw, I have experience," she began, fidgeting anxiously. It seemed she simply could not help herself, unable to keep from digging her little hole as she continued. "But I'd say my real perks are my stellar personality, and I come with Heelys. We've got other options, though. Light-up Sketchers or speaker sneakers– I'm like a walking rave for the office."
"I'll keep that in mind," his hand returned to clicking the pen, and the muscles in Beck's back tensed. "What's your biggest weakness, Beck?"
"I couldn't tell you," her body didn't lose its tension even as she leaned back in her seat. "I've got a bad back though, if it counts. Mostly from carrying everyone else's slack at my last job."
The wobbly smile she offered him was met with yet another wry look.
"You seem to think highly of yourself, Beck."
"Would it be better if I groveled? I can grovel. I'm good at it." She adjusted in her seat again, leaning forward with her elbows against her knees. "I don't think I can get into my angsty backstory just yet, though. You gotta reach Level 10 Friendship first, at least."
"Do you ever take anything seriously?" The manager lifted a hand to scrub over his face tiredly.
"Not if I can help it. Makes things uncomfortable."
"This is uncomfortable, Beck."
"It could be way more uncomfortable, John. Is it okay if I call you John?"
"It would be fine," he sighed. "If my name weren't Jeff."
"Oh– okay, Jeff," Beck amended accordingly, clearing her throat and leaning back in her seat again, seemingly unable to keep still. "This will all go way smoother if we both just accept that I've commandeered this interview."
"Is it just me, or do you make everyone around you nervous?"
"Do I make you nervous?"
"Hardly, although I think I'll find myself exhausted before the week is out."
"Well, Jeff," she clicked her tongue. "If it makes you feel better, I get that a lot."
"It doesn't."
"Damn." Beck slumped in her seat, deflated as she considered her options. It wasn't long before she perked up again, peering at him hopefully.
"Wait, 'before the week's out'? Did I get the job?"