by Sandi Martinez

Created on: July 12, 2007

The interview

What would I wear today? The tan colored hose and perhaps the red print skirt I bought yesterday, with the white matching blouse and red pumps, or the gray pant suit? This would be the twelfth interview in twelve days. What demeanor should I present? The usual or the one we talked about in last week's meeting? The one where I wear this serious, yet determined yet casual look or the one that says, I'm confident I'm the one you're looking for. Is that a demeanor, or just a sense of self-confidence?

Out of the eleven interviews I'd had, six of those companies had called. I hadn't called them back wasn't supposed to; yet. The phone will ring in a few seconds. I've finally decided on the gray pant-suit. I've decided on the black rimmed glasses and the other demeanor, the serious, yet determined yet casual look. The phone is ringing, just on time.
"Tinez, you ready?"
"Of course," I say impatiently.
"What are you wearing?" says the savvy clipped female voice on the other end.
"The gray pant-suit."
"This is an interview for a sales marketing position for a major floral arrangement company they're now part of the Fortune 500. Are you sure you want to wear pants?" she says, her voice is getting more clipped with every word.
"Yes, I'm sure. As a matter of fact, I walked by the store just yesterday. It's really lovely, and I happened to notice that nearly 3 out of 10 women who walked in to buy flowers, had on a pant-suit. I ascertained that this would flatter the interviewers. If they have a customer base of roughly 3 of out 10 pant-suit wearing women, I figured my attire would not seem so out of the ordinary."
"Change into a dress or skirts. That's final. Pay attention to the codes." The phone went dead.
I flung the matching blazer onto my arm, took one final glance at my hair and suit and walked briskly out of my hotel room. The sun was already hot and I could feel the pumps absorb the scorching heat into my feet as I walked. I liked flowers. I always thought about gardening, but never had the time. I had a secret garden back home near a park, but they slashed it down during construction for a new condo complex I had to slap myself every now and again, I was living in the very corner of what used to be my secret garden. The condo prices were too hard to pass up, and besides, it gave me the feel of still being close to the garden, though now flattened by the condo complex, it lay just underneath me, under layers of cinder block, more cement, and yet more

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