She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Fluff out the hair, smooth down the skirt, practice the smile, unbutton for sexy or add a scarf to hide the neck wattle. It had been so long since she had put on the show. “Ya do what ya gotta do”, she thought, “and this could be the one”. This could be the day it’s finally over. Forced assurance was never a good thing, but it was better than none at all.
Being unemployed was a tough gig. Hundreds of resumes had been broadcast. Out they had gone; snail mail to the big boys, e-mail to whatever links she could find, phone calls to family, friends and borderline acquaintances. She had done whatever was needed to find a job and it had become a mission in her life that had morphed into an obsession, the intensity of which was starting to show. She had grown weary of all the platitudes from friends. The “you’re not alone(s), the hang in there baby(s), the keep your chin up(s)”, just made her want to slap someone. They knew nothing. She was alone, her chin was on the floor and she was just plain tired of being hung out to dry like some old faded sweatshirt. Frustration and doubt had planted themselves squarely on her spirit where confidence had once thrived. She was at her wits end.
Now the trick was to get across how qualified she was without them realizing the years it had taken to gain all that experience. Youth was in, AARP was out. Nobody does old anymore. They all seemed to want instant proficiency without having to pay for the struggle involved. What did these young kids know anyway? Thirty-five years should account for something or so her inner voice said.
So now the final interview. The trick was to look the part without being over the top professional. Qualified yet ageless. Witty not whimsical. Stand tall and make them pay attention. She may not have the expedient dexterity of a younger employee, but slow and steady would always get the job done.
She was as ready as she would ever be. Her references, she was sure, had been thoroughly checked out and would all have come through for her, touting rave reviews on her work. It was time to go now and head downtown. Was she going to her future or just revisiting her past? Show no fear and just let the chips fall , that was going to be her mantra for the day.
The clock was ticking and with one last glance, the mirror told her all she needed to know. She was ready and would show them. Pulling this off may not be easy, but it was doable. If nothing else this interview would be one they would remember, she would make sure of that. She picked up her pink boa and out the door she flew. Even former Burlesque Queens know, never keep them waiting.Published in “The Glass Coin” http://theglasscoin.com/ July 5, 2010