Someone was Knocking at the Door

I was 5 minutes late for the interview for the receptionist position. Wouldn't you know it; www.findyour map.com was wrong again! The street where my building I was looking for was supposed to be wasn't even on the map.

I pulled up to this nondescript trailer in my beat up, old, compact car. There wasn't even a sign on the windowless building identifying it. The number address was there, however, in tiny, tiny letters.

I knocked, and knocked, no answer. As I was knocking was again, and periodically trying the door to see if it became unlocked, I said to myself, "Wait! I hear low male voices whispering." Mom always says I got ears like a dog! I hear everything. I stopped knocking, and strained to hear, "What are they saying?"

"Do you think we should open the door?" a gruff deep voice asked.

"What!" I thought, "Yes, open the door! How else do I get in here?"

"I'm not opening the door. I'm an engineer," another deep voice answered pompously.

"Well, I'm not opening the door, either," the first voice declared.

He cleared his throat, "I'm a highly paid engineer, not a receptionist."

"Hey, I'll just open the door, and let her in," the first male voice finally declared. When someone had finally opened the door, I swear to God 10 minutes had gone by.

"Oh, thank goodness," I thought pouring in sweat in 115° heat, wrapped up in pantyhose, and my power suit.

I walked into the cool highly air conditioned lobby, and sure enough there on the wall in giant letters as big as life was the name of the company. They could announce the company inside the walls, but not outside? I had looked in vain for a sign to find the place. In front of the wall was a big, brown, heavy important looking receptionist's desk which set empty ready to be filled by "someone knocking at the door."

It seemed like only one of the gentlemen whisperers remained, I use that term gentlemen loosely, The one that finally let me in was dressed not in an important power suit like myself, but in more casual summer attire. This made more sense in the 115° Phoenix, Arizona summer's heat. Dressed in a cool cotton short-sleeve blue collared shirt, and khaki pants, he apologized for the delay in opening the door, admitting to the argument about who was the least important. The designee door opener said he finally opened the door in frustration, and politeness. And he noted to his embarrassment that his discomfited cohorts had skedaddled.

"We really need a receptionist, you see. We are a brand new company, on a brand new city street, and we haven't hired a receptionist, yet."

And then abruptly he just left. Just left me standing there alone. He didn't say good-bye. Nor did he tell me that he would announce my presence to the manager in charge. Apparently, he didn't plan to explain to anyone why I was 15 minutes late.

I just stood there in the lobby alone trying to get my bearings from bewilderment and the change in light. My pupils had trouble adjusting from the bright Arizona sun, to the inner indoor dimmed soft light. "Now where is the man in charge?" I wondered. Obviously, in this group this person was going to be a "he."

Soon I heard a voice, and looked down the long, narrow, carpeted hall. Behind a partially closed door, I heard a man talking on the phone. Yelling was more like it.

"She's late! Maybe not coming at all! Can't you send someone over who knows the value of time!"

Silence.

"She should have called."

I can just imagine in the silence that followed what Theresa thought. Theresa was the temporary employment agency coordinator lady.

And on, and on he went with Theresa for another 5 minutes, "Great, now I'm twenty minutes late. Why doesn't he just come out here? Just to check to see if I have arrived, for God's sake! Why me, God?"

F i n a l l y! He gets off the phone, sees me standing in the lobby, and comes storming out into the lobby.

I profusely apologized, and accepted all responsibility for my lateness. So after hearing quite a rant about me wasting "his valuable time," he asked me to have a seat, and complete the interview with him. Well, finally hours after I had arrived there at two o'clock in the afternoon, the interview was over! "Hurrah! Gee, I didn't know a temp receptionist job was so very important as to require hours, and hours of interview time! My long ordeal was finally, over!" or so I thought!

I left with a handshake from the manager, and I was told they had other candidates, (I hope they let them in), and I was told to follow up with Theresa from the temp agency, about the temporary three month, position.

When I called Terry from home I told her about the whole sordid affair. Although she sympathized with me, she also told me I should be sure I knew where I was going before I left home, and if necessary drive there the day before. And I would have if money for gas wasn't so tight after being out of work for at least a year. Terry then told me the three month temporary position had been offered to a woman from her agency who had interviewed with the electronic research lab the day before.

"You mean ... they let her in? Wish her good luck from me," I paused. "I hope they give her a key or you'll have to tell them...Someone was knocking at the door."