2094. A nerve-wracking application

There’s no doubt that Laurel was highly qualified for the job. It was the first application Laurel had made after graduating from university. She was nervous, and thrilled to learn she had been short-listed and was to be interviewed.

What to wear for the interview? She could hardly wear her white lab technician’s coat with safety goggles, and hair in netting! She wasn’t exactly going to work today! So she chose to wear sensible shoes, a casual blouse, and tidy slacks.

The man doing the interview was most pleasant. He had carefully looked into Laurel’s CV. He said he was most impressed. The only thing Laurel lacked was experience. That wouldn’t be a bother. One could quickly adapt and learn if one fitted in well with the team.

“Would Laurel mind staying for a while in the waiting room while he mulled over her application and interview?”

Laurel returned to the waiting room. One never knows how things have gone. It is so nerve-wracking.

A woman entered the room. “Sorry,” she said. “Would you mind terribly if I did the vacuuming. It makes such a wretched noise.”

Laurel said she didn’t mind at all, and in fact followed the woman around, lifting the chairs up for the woman to vacuum underneath, and holding up the magazine racks.

“Thanks so much,” said the woman as she left. “You made the job so much easier. I really detest vacuuming.”

“You’re not alone in that,” said Laurel.

Soon the man appeared. “The only concern we had was if you would fit into the team. Other than that you’re perfect for the job. Professor Sally Quaid, the big-time boss, says you’ll fit in fine.”

“But I haven’t met the big-time boss,” said Laurel.

“Oh yes you have,” said the man.

791. Job application

Jonathan applied for a job at the weather place: the Meteorological Office. There were over two hundred applicants. Goodness! What chance did Jonathan have? So many of the applicants had climatic skills equal to Jonathan’s.

The interviews were held. The applicants were whittled down to ten. Jonathan’s name was among them.

Further interviews were scheduled. Two applicants were named. Jonathan’s name was one of the two. Yes! Yes!

And in the end, guess who got the job? Guess who! Guess who! Jonathan! It was Jonathan!

When push came to shove both candidates were identical in knowledge and experience. Both had breezy personalities. Both were industrious. But Jonathan had the edge. He had listed ballroom dancing as one of his interests. It was something the other candidate lacked.

Jonathan literally waltzed in.

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358. Anyone for tea?

John was a bright young man. He had topped the country in Physics, Chemistry, German and Algebra. His place in the prestigious research laboratories was almost guaranteed.

The interview went well. All he needed to do now was to wait patiently in the staff room while the selection panel deliberated.

A short, grey-haired lady came out wheeling a tea wagon. She wore sensible shoes. Her hair was tied in a bun with a dark-brown plastic comb holding it together.

“Would you like a cup of tea or a coffee?” she asked John, kindly.

“Give me a tea,” he said. Then he wished he hadn’t asked for it. It was too difficult a balancing act: the cup, the saucer, the cookie; trying to eat and drink and talk all at once.

“I suppose you’re here for the interview,” said the tea lady. “How did it go?”

“It’s none of your business,” said John rather rudely. He was a bit nervous; a bit not quite himself after the interview. “You should stick to pouring tea.”

“I just thought I’d ask,” said the tea lady, giving John his cup and wheeling the wagon off. “You have a nice day.”

The selection panel reappeared shortly, and so did the tea lady with the wagon.

“Anyone for tea?” she asked.

The head of the selection panel addressed the applicant: “John,” he said, “thanks for coming for the interview. You’re highly suited academically for the task. Unfortunately, Doctor Marjorie, the head nuclear physicist, doesn’t think you’d fit well into the team. All the best for future interviews.”

Teas were poured for the panel. John stood there holding his cup and saucer and cookie, and looking stupid. The panel stared.

“₉₂U²³⁵ + ₀n¹ = ₅₆Ba¹⁴⁴ + ₃₆Kr⁸⁹ + 3 (₀n¹),” thought the “tea lady”.