Page 27 of Chandelier Enthralled
Shaken, I checked to see if anyone had caught the embarrassing scene, but no one seemed interested in a stranger’s discomfort. Staff merely scurried around the room eager to share breaking stories with their colleagues.
I glanced into offices with windows that probably belonged to senior staff members. To my right, a team of journalists huddled around a television monitor. The thought that I might be able to join them was exhilarating.
Within a minute, I’d located the empty conference room, giving me time to project a sense of calm before the interview. The polished glass table was surrounded by office chairs. I sat down in one and set my purse next to me.
On the far wall, a large screen displayed the network’s logo. I took a moment to collect my thoughts as I studied Pulse360’s insignia. It featured a distressed font with jagged edges, and at the center, a tree with crooked branches, evoking a haunting atmosphere—like someone had gone for a family tree vibe but missed the mark.
I’d applied to several stations—this was the first one that had invited me in for an interview before I’d contacted them. Which, to be honest, my ego needed right now—the thought that someone like me could be professionally headhunted.
A man in a gray suit flung the door open, making a harried appearance.
I stood up to greet him.
He offered his hand and shook mine, a weathered smile hinting that he survived off caffeine and adrenaline. I saw the shadow of stubble along his pale jaw.
“I’m Joe.” He gestured to himself. “Sorry, I’ve been up all night. Breaking story.”
“Anything interesting?”
He gave me an amused look.
“I’m Willa,” I said brightly.
He glanced at his watch. “My ten A.M.”
“Great to meet you.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing about your time at Yale.”
“Brown,” I said, offering him a warm smile.
“Brown, right. That was the other girl.”
A hint I was competing for the job.
His passion for journalism came at a sacrifice. This guy needed to get more sun.
He took the seat next to mine and reached for a remote, clicking a few buttons. “Resumé short but sweet.”
There, replacing their logo on the lit screen, was my resumé. Seeing proof of my lack of experience so vibrantly displayed made me feel self-conscious.
“Any extracurricular activities?”
“I was a member of the debate club.” I followed his gaze towards the glass wall.
Joe watched as an elegantly dressed woman walked by on the other side. He jolted with surprise when she came into the room.
I guessed her age to be mid-forties. She was poised with a confident air, easily commanding attention.
Joe appeared nervous, as though trying to figure out what she might want.
He pushed to his feet. “Do you need this room?”
“I’ll take it from here.”
He looked confused. “This is an interview.”
“I know,” she said.
