The Interview. .continued. .3



Cont. The Interview. .

He must have dozed off some. Hitting the back of his head a few times to the wall. Wiped off a spittle that shyly trekked down the side of his mouth and danced around his jaw gingerly before dropping to his collar, dampening his shirt a little .

It was 2:30pm

He woke up, wiped his face and sat up adjusting himself when he heard the door at the extreme open and close  and then  footsteps and a pause..

“Er  ..who is James .?
“James mokoro? ?

“I am”…He replied raising his hand above his head as he would if he were in a classroom. Clutching his bag with the other hand..standing halfway.

“Ok. They said give them a minute and then come in “. The lady who just finished her interview said.

She was small and petite.  Timid even if you ask him. She seemed a little more than 18 facially..but these days you can’t really quantify that.  A kid looks older and an older person looks younger.  But ofcos they won’t be employing a minor .  He shrugged.

He stood up. Using his hands to straighten his shirt and counted.
Standing infront of the door, he took a deep breath. Knocked and waited for it..
There was a faint ” Come in”

The wave of cold hit him square on his face as he opened. He blinked. Then focused seeing that they were two. One with gray hairs under his chin and glasses on his nose. The other with wide lips, Peircing gaze and rough hair.

“Good afternoon sirs” ..He murmured and waited for them to ask him to sit . He wondered if he should have greeted them separately and removed the “s”. He shrugged and waited .

“Sit down mr James.  You are not a monumental statue “. The one with grey hair said , not looking up from his computer .

He quickly sat down.

The grey – haired looked up, had a quizzical look when he looked at him, with an eyebrow raised  after a quick run down on his appearance. He relaxed in his seat,  clasping his fingers together making them stick .

He stared back at him.
“Don’t look would look too nervous .
Ok..If I keep staring at him straight in the eye… I would look too forward or over – confident” he thought to himself .
But he wasn’t.  He was far from it .He felt like pissing his pants. Literally.
But he wondered why the grey – haired guy was looking at him that way..

Oh shit.

He braced himself for it…

“Mr James,  is that how you come in for an interview? ?
Is that how you dress?
Have you ever been in an interview?
Or this was an oversight?…or some form of laxity in your part”.

The grey – haired wasn’t smiling.

Sweats broke out again on his forehead despite the room was cold.
The other just stared at him…
“Well go on answer the old man”

He took a deep breath.
How should he answer the question..or questions..He wondered .
Where should he start from..
That this was the only decent shirt he had out of a few hundred rags. Though it’s not a James bond or the ‘Rock’ classic with cofflinks he never seem to finish buttoning at his wrist…but it was pretty decent that Oliver twist would dearly appreciate . Or so he thought.
Maybe he should have really borrowed his neighbours suit..though tattared but pretty ok. If you consider faded blue and white patches on the collar and below the right elbow..better than nothing .but what to do now?  
This shoe ..?
He mentally looked down at his feet, knocking  them against each other. He had this one  about a year ago, his big brother gave it to him after he got another from their uncle, who died and left  him a few of his belonginings.
He was a professor of the sciences. His shoe steamed as much as his brain. You could imagine the state..but his brother wasnt detered.
He wanted to be a prof one day, and he took that slogan seriously ..
” you want to be like someone…walk in his shoes”..and thus. .He got his brother’s shoes.
And the patch here and there, well he had worn it a long time. But he managed to sew it and clean it up some. He was proud . But he shouldn’t have been…given the way he was being stared down like he just walked out of the slums.
His trousers were jump-up. But black . Well that was because he spent it in black dye a day before.
Torn socks…but he managed to hide it. The way he did in seconcondary school. Putting the torn side down and turning the not-so-torn – side up. Now he was an expert.
But still it didn’t save him from this disapproving glances and shaking of the heads he was getting.
But still.
He opened his mouth to answer..but closed it instead and stared back. Shifting under their gazes. And shook his head instead and bit his lip.

Officially screwed.

“Ok Mr James. .just for the sake of your future interviews..Please be smart and decent. You will be addressed the way you are dressed. Capish? ?

*what if he was poor and broke and doesn’t really know what his next meal was or will be.*
But hey who cares about all that right?
Just come for the interview they say. Who cares if you have a shoe or haven’t eaten for weeks.
But he kept quiet and nodded.

“Good”. The grey – head nodded.

He turned to his wide lipped sidekick
“Gentlemen, shall we begin??”

To be cont.



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