Page 27 of The Happiness Blueprint
“We have something called discrimination laws in this country.” I look at him with disbelief. He has very blue eyes. I quickly bring up the ad on my phone, scrolling through the published version.Scheiße.He’s right. There are my ever so important requirements all listed in order but without the first important requirement:gender. It must have been automatically removed when posting the ad. I guess I should have included that it was in order to balance the female to male ratio, and maybe it would have been allowed. Too late now.
Shit. All I wanted was some female energy and Mr. 10/10 Tradesman turns up, looking like he just stepped out of a Google search forattractive Swede with tool kit. Messy blond hair, pale skin—as in vampire-pale, but in an attractive way—and silver-blue eyes the color of a frozen lake. He is wearing a T-shirt, unzipped hoodie and joggers, in a lightweight fabric which has most likely been marketed asgym to coffee dateattire. But still. Hardly very professional. Despite my disapproval I can’t help but look. His disheveled appearance is...distracting.
I donotlike distractions.
“Discrimination laws, you say?” I manage, my voice is so shrill it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s in a frequency only dolphins can hear. The corners of his eyes wrinkle. The room feels very small suddenly, as if I’m locked in an elevator with a stranger.
Gosh, do I always produce this much saliva? I bite my lip.
“If I can fulfill the criteria, you have no reason not to hire me.” Is that a smirk? And adimple?He deposits a thick bunch of documents in front of me, seemingly forgetting that he could have just done a few swipes on an iPad and produced them digitally, thus saving time and paper. And that he sent it with his application already.
I quickly skim the pile in front of me. Then I scan him—there isa lotto look at—and only stop when Alice’s excellent advice on meeting strangers pops up.Relax, Klara. Whatever you do, don’t stare. Your intensity makes people feel as if you’re giving them an X-ray.I look down at my own feet, tapping the floor, at which point Alex continues talking.
“I also have solid experience in construction in general, not just carpentry, if you go back a few pages.” He leans in over the table to point me in the right direction, and I can’t help but register his smell. He smells of fresh linen and shampoo, no aftershave or overpowering perfume. I also notice his wedding band and...that makes sense. Gorgeous men are usually married.It’s gold-plated and softly rounded, slightly too tight on the finger.Takenit says. Like a towel on a Tenerife poolside deck chair. Not up for grabs, darling.Good.Because I’m not in Sweden to fall for confident, blond men. I’m here to work and try my best not to mess things up further.
“Right. I see.” But I don’t really see it. He appears to have left his position at a Malmö firm six months ago, leaving the reference section blank. Blank pages and gaps are particularly annoying: it means we have to fill them in with our own imagination. I have understood that it’s rude to ask the person to fill in their intentional gaps. Say they tell you that their boyfriend cheated, and you ask with whom? That was not part of the story, and the gap had been left there on purpose. I decide to ask something other thanWhat have you been doing for the past six months and seventeen days?
“Why do you need this job?” I look him in the eye and therefore the words come out slightly slower than they usually do. I speak the fastest when I look at the ground.
“Because life?” He gives me a knowing smile, and I relate to him for a split second. Then I feel annoyed. Vague, I think. Answering with a question.
“Listen, I’m hardworking and punctual, good at what I do. I have managerial experience too. I currently have no job for reasons beyond this interview, and I just need a break. It would be great if you could give it to me despite my Y chromosome.”
I flinch. Apparently, he can be straightforward,arroganteven. Hiring him would be a huge mistake.Whatever I do, I must not hire this man.I don’t have a reason, though: he fills the criteria and is available immediately, hasn’t tried to negotiate the salary, and appears clean and respecting of basic hygiene. I can’t fight sexism with reversed sexism. We need a carpenter and, voilà, here is one.
He looks around the room when I don’t immediately speak, and my gaze follows his like he’s a potential shoplifter. Am Isweating? Can’t be. Because tall, arrogant men donotmake me sweat. This interview has to end because I need fresh air. Air that is not shared withAlex.
I hand his documents back. He stretches out his hand to take them, but I drop them onto the table before he can reach the file. I donotwant to touch that hand. Or the person it belongs to.
“Alex. Thank you so much for coming all the way out here. I know it’s a bit of a trek from Malmö. I will let you know the outcome by tomorrow.” I look at the floor when I speak, already planning next week’s schedule in my head, a schedule which sees me and Alex working in different locations.
I walk him to the door. Have to make sure he’s really leaving. I watch him press a fob, and a black BMW in the parking lot lights up twice as if sayinghello, hello.God, this guy must be full of himself. Probably spends his weekend washing the thing. I bet he spends more on its cleaning products than I do on my hair conditioner.
“Nice car,” I say in my best sarcastic tone.
“Thanks, it means a lot to me.”
Ha. I was right. Told you, kisses-his-car-good-night guy. Long after he has driven off on the half-frozen road, the consistency of a defrosting steak, I feel stirred and unsettled.
Goose bumps. The interview process has given me actual goose bumps.
ALEX
Personal Calendar
• NEW TASK:Again, act cool
• NEW TASK:Again, act professional
• NEW TASK:Remember, you need this job
Several hours later I am still processing what just happened. Which sounds like this: an interview. But that felt like fucking this: nerves, flinching, sweaty palms rubbing on trousers and...excitement?
Fuck.
Interview lady looked nothing like expected. She is average height, but that’s where average leaves the room. She has the largest, brownest eyes I’ve seen. She was wearing a baggy black T-shirt with the company’s logo in white, and jeans with heavy boots, steel toed. That shirt hung loosely over her body, hiding every area of interest. Not that I’m interested.Not at all.Her dark hair was in a bun on top of her head, wavy strands of it breaking loose as if angry at something. Wouldn’t want to mess with her hair. Or her.
She is the type of girl guys want to tell to smile more, I couldn’t help but think, as she looked at me like I was something the cat brought in. All the banter and weirdness from last night’s email exchange gone. Tried to stay professional, but all I could think about was how I need to get this job—need to pay the car bills, need to reclaim a sense of purpose in life, need to check off items on the calendar—but I now also want this job so that I can see her again.
