George sat back in his padded-leather office chair attempting to look comfortable. In a subdued panic, he wiped his palms across his trouser legs. Interviewing potential employees was George’s favorite and least favorite responsibility. He loved the power and authority he felt as part of the interviewer/interviewee relationship, but ironically, shrank with unease at the thought that he was expected to be powerful and authoritative. He wet his lips from a small glass of water at the corner of his desk.

“Please send him in.” George called to his secretary through a frosted glass door. He rubbed his hands against his legs one last time then turned his chair around so he was facing the wall. There was a knock at the door and a muffled “Hello?” that seemed more to be sung than spoken. George waited a few uneasy moments and puffed his chest in preparation.

“Ye—” George’s mouth had dried up again and his response came out as nothing more than a whisper. He quickly spun his chair, grabbed his glass of water and was facing the wall again without even putting his feet down. He wet his lips once more, sat up in his chair, and puffed his chest.

“Yes?” His voice sounded confident. This was good. George briefly felt a wave of reassurance wash over him and he cockily folded his legs, one on top of the other. He casually dusted off the top of his pant leg with a flick of his wrist and decided to speak once more;

“Turn the door knob and push.” Now his voice sounded annoyed and condescending. Perfect. He cracked his neck like a boxer before a fight and slowly swiveled his chair around.

The man was already approaching George’s desk with an outstretched arm and an affable smile. George noticed that the man was uncommonly attractive. He was also taller than George. At least by two inches. His effortless smiling was the type that put the people he was around at ease. George wished he would stop.

“Hello Mr. Stertner, I want to thank you for seeing me.” The man pulled his smile tighter and stood cheerfully behind George’s desk, his hand still awkwardly outstretched. George was impressed by this man’s poise, but also unnerved. He was suddenly at a loss for words. The man swayed his hand slightly to show that it was still there. A few more seconds passed.

“Mr. Stertn—”

“Please call me Mr. Stertner.” George interrupted. Surprised by his own quick-witted assertiveness, George patted down his tie and jacket lapels and cracked his neck again. He peered down at the man’s hand still hovering over the desk.

“Have you washed your hands?” George asked in imitated disgust.
The man laughed for a moment. George glared with a look of disdain at the man’s smile. Had his ruse been effective? Did the man think George to be a person of strong character? The smile fell from the man’s face and perspiration began to form above his brow. Yes. Sweat you bastard, George thought to himself with a deep feeling of accomplishment.

“Um, yes yes,” The man’s words came out quick and nervously now. “Yes, I’ve washed my hands several times today. I just used the bathroom before coming in here and—”

George interrupted the man again, “Stop right there,” he was beginning to enjoy himself, “Stop right there you bastard. I don’t want to hear any of your stories from the ladies room.” George wondered if he had gone too far. Could he be sued for that comment? George gasped audibly. He hoped desperately that this man wasn’t a homosexual. He could feel his face turning red, and his folded legs began to tremble. He took several deep breaths and nearly fainted.

George braced himself with one straight arm pressed firmly against the corner of his desk, but after several agonizing moments was somehow able to escape the tunnel that was slowly eclipsing his vision.

“Please sit down.” George’s voice was kind now, almost pleading. He smiled awkwardly and took another sip of his water. With a full mouth he gestured with the glass and raised eyebrows to ask the man if he would like some.

“No thank you,” The man replied. George finished his glass with a loud gulp that seemed to take great effort. Still not sure of the man’s sexual orientation and if his last comment had offended, George was on his best behavior.

“May I see your resume you have there?”

The man politely placed the paper in front of George and folded his hands back in his lap. George looked over the paper for a few moments and uttered an “mm-hm” every now and then, accompanied by a nod. He flipped over the resume to see if anything was written on the back. This was something he always did. He found it made the interviewee feel negligent because they never wrote anything there. Why would they? George chuckled to himself. He felt he had fully recovered from his near bout of unconsciousness, but he soon remembered the lawsuit that may be at hand. It would be best to act more cordially to the man even if he was a homosexual. Especially if he was a homosexual, George’s eyes opened wide as he nodded to himself again.
“This is a very nice resume…” George’s eyes scanned the paper, “Zzzzzeek.” George hesitated, “Zeke?”

“Yes, Zeke.”

“Zeke, ok. I never know if it’s pronounced Zeek or Zack.” Both men laughed awkwardly.

“But yes, a very nice resume indeed.”

“Why thank you sir, I’ve worked very hard.”

“Yes, I can see that.” George paused. He struggled to find something he could say that would bask him in a light of eminence, yet not offend. “What is this? Gotham?” George spat out the first thought that came to mind.

“I’m sorry sir?” Zeke leaned forward to see what George was referring to.

“This font,” George winced, “It..it’s wonderful. Is it Gotham?” Both men were embarrassed by the question.

“Oh, um,” Zeke patted down his tie and jacket lapels, “Yes sir I believe it is.”

“Great great. This is nice thick paper also. A really fine resume.” George sat back in his chair. That was wonderfully clever he thought. Cruel too! He had turned his off-colored comment into an effective oppressive device. Zeke had thought George was complimenting his work-history when he was actually commenting on the physical qualities of the resume! Ha! George was elated. He noted his triumph so that he could tell others about it later.

“You know when I was about your age,” George shook his hand, index finger pressed against his thumb like a chef explaining his seafood appetizer “I had a really fine resume.” Zeke nodded.

“I would show corporations this resume, and they would just hand me the money.” George paused for a laugh. He paused a moment longer.

“To save time.” George smiled and nodded. It’s OK to laugh, he felt like saying.

“Because my resume was so good I was assured the job. They’d save time by just giving me the money!” George forced a laugh that was ridiculously too loud. Zeke laughed also.

George had faltered with that joke and he knew it. His spirits had plummeted and he now felt like weeping. Did Zeke still respect him? It was hard to tell and there was only one way to find out.

“So do you have any questions for me Zack?” George realized he had mispronounced Zeke’s name and began to correct it but stopped himself. Let’s see how you handle that Fuck-o, George thought. His eyes narrowed. He scanned Zeke’s face for any hint of provocation. There was none.

“Yes sir,” George awaited Zeke’s question like a child’s arm awaiting penetration by a hypodermic needle.

“May I use your restroom?”

“What?” George was sure his ears deceived him. “I beg your pardon? Speak up.”

“The bathroom—can I use it?” George was truly astonished. That’s all? Didn’t you just use the restroom, he thought? George thought of giving the boy directions to the ladies room then thought better of it. He lifted his open hand, palm-up from the desk as to say; I don’t care what you do. Zeke got up slowly from his chair and glanced at a hand-print of moisture George had just uncovered. He walked through the doorway and shut the frosted glass door politely behind him.