It was cold in the room. Ben opened his eyes and could feel his feet aching; almost throbbing from the bitterness in the room. He - Unsure of if the bitterness was from him or the weather - immediately reached for a means with which to compose an email:
“Maybe that last one was a little harsh. It was getting late. Barely slept through the night. Too much on my mind now got an interview to get to and a stand up job. Great.
You have no idea what I'm going through. I wish you did.
I guess I can't even explain though I wish I could. I just wanted to be with you and be happy. Was that really too much to ask? Even other people are starting to realise I loved you.
It's getting stupid.
You'll never change your mind.
I don't know why I'm even trying. X”
Opening his eyes fully, he realised how poorly he had slept the night before. It was gone 2am by the time he had gone to sleep - It could even have been 3am... The night wore heavy on him, with the thoughts he had alone with him through the hours in bed.
Managing to drag himself out of the covers with all the vim and vigour of a sloth trying to run in front of a bus; Dragging his heels behind him, he looked out of the Window.
“Oh For Fuck’s sake...”
It had frosted over outside, and he was due at an interview within 90 minutes. His shoes barely had the grip of a cat on a hot tin roof, and his centre of gravity was well befitting of a male over 6 feet in height (Or to say it better: He was terrible on ice).
After doing his usual business and washing his hair, he crept downstairs to put the kettle on for a cup of honied tea, and to roll his cigarettes for the day to come. Not only had he an interview, but he was back in work for the first time in weeks after illness. Today was going to be an absolute clusterfuck of a day...
Time came and went and it soon became half past 8. The interview was due in 60 minutes. Ben still wasn’t ready. He was still trying to steady himself from the emotions and (marginally) self-imposed sleep depravity from the night before.
Either way, he was never going to make the interview in time, as he was still to procure a bus pass, and yet make his way to the bus stop to get to the blasted event in his life. In one brief second, he did wonder why he was even doing it. The person he was originally doing it for had deserted him, and fractionally he considered phoning in sick again...
Fortunately, Stephen came in and offered a lift to do all the gophering for him, (so that was a little reassuring for our protagonist...). Stephen de-iced the car, and took Ben to the paper shop and the bus stop, as promised; leaving him around ¼ of an hour worse off than when he last anticipated going out, and then around ½ an hour worse than he originally intended.
It came to half past nine; The time of the interview... Ben found himself now around 400 yards (according to his phone) from his “destination”, yet with somewhat perilous slopes in front of him. He thought of himself as some brave alpaca goat (Or some other such creature, that actually exists). In truth, he was in Suburban England, and it should have been a breeze.
“...Should have been...”
His feet couldn’t figure out their left from right, let alone in which position they should be facing (“Toe-first” is usually considered the best option) on the sheets of frosted tarmac below him. He was a mess and he knew it. Regardless, he continued following the GPS on his phone, and eventually - some 20 minutes late - made it to his “destination”.
He knew this because his phone told him “You have arrived at your destination”; then gave him a picture of some houses. Which looked similar to the ones he was standing by.
Ben thought to himself for a moment...
“OK... Now where do I go?”
He knew exactly what he was looking for; it certainly wasn’t a house that he was after. He was after something... A little more... A little bigger. Possibly like a Polish Food supermarket (Not quite a pop-up Co-Op, but still not an ASDA).
After a while of walking down this road - which was his destination, although he didn’t know this yet - he found the building he was after and finally got inside, some 23 minutes late... He wondered if they’d be annoyed with him.
It turned out they were fine... Generally. They had a small chat about being under-staffed and his late-showing not improving matters; But this quickly laughed off by all involved.
Generally speaking, everything went rather splendidly with a few jokes, nods of appreciative heads and calls of “Good answer” from one of the two interviewers... Ben however would not hold his hopes up, for it was for a small wage (albeit it with a potential NVQ attached), and he felt that - although he wasn’t - they may have that he was trying too hard with his answers...
Either that or he’d have just made himself look a complete prat with the relative ease that he seemed to career through the inquisition...
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