I wait at Starbucks. They said they’d interview me at 2, but the guy ahead of me looks like he already has the job. He’s actually wearing a shirt and tie, and he’s showing the interviewer his portfolio. I loaded mine onto my Sphere – an invention of my own – but now I wonder if a standard portfolio would have been the smart choice.
Now they are both smiling and nodding, the guy and the person who is interviewing him. She does have pink hair and these cool tech eyeglasses. I figure from the way they’re getting along that I’ve lost the job.
I make a knife out of words. I toss it toward them and it drops, into the space between the two, and they part. I’m surprised, and the feeling of joy – of making the weapon of letters, the black outlines of As and Zs and Ss overlapping on each other in a particular way – the joy starts at the top of my head and streams through me to the bottom of my feet.
The guy in the shirt and tie gets up from the table, walks away, and I come over to where the interviewer sits.
She looks up at me. She smiles.
“Aimee?” she says. She gestures to the empty chair across from her. “Let’s see your portfolio.”
I get the job. The Sphere was a “great innovation,” she told me, and “we need new minds like you,” she said.
About this post: Sometimes it pays to be innovative.