Tag: short story

Feeling Judged – Short Story

Here is a short story from my little book of shorts, known as ‘Second Glance’. Today I just wanted to share a story in completion. I hope that you enjoy.

As I pulled hard on my left shoe again, still trying to force my foot into the uncomfortable high heels that mum had bought me especially for today, I grimaced. Mum usually didn’t criticise me and she was pretty accepting of my style but today was different. She had my best interests at heart. I was willing to smarten myself up for this interview as I really needed to get onto the circuit and start trying my hardest to get a training job with a law firm. She helped me to finally nudge the heel past the starched edge of the back of the shoe and then smiled at me with some degree of understanding of my pain.

“You’ll be alright,” she said calmly.
In my head, though, I was freaking out. “I’ve gotta start somewhere.”
“You are clever. You know the law inside out. Surely that stands for something.”
“But you know as well as I do, that some people have that extra star quality. They have rich parents, expensive suits and internships in large firms, with family connections that help them slip into jobs like this. Ordinary people like me, we just have to see where the crumbs fall.”
“But come on,” she said warmly, “you got the interview. They must have ticked off a lot of boxes to short list you.”
“I was probably just meeting their quota for weirdos. They have to be seen to be inclusive, after all.”
I straightened myself up and brushed off my shoulders.
“Well good luck,” she said before kissing me on the forehead as though I were still twelve years old, perhaps about to go on my first school residential trip.

On the bus I thought about what lay ahead. This was a job that relied on first impressions. You had a half hour slot and in that you had to sell yourself entirely. You had to stand out in the crowd. Unfortunately for me, I mostly stood out for the wrong reasons. I had dark red hair which was frizzy and hard to tame. I was covered in freckles from head to toe and had a large birth mark climbing all the way up the left side of my neck. My nose ring was small but distinctly unique as it had a tiny rainbow on the end of it, just next to my right nostril. I had plenty of tattoos, although mum had done her best to hide them today. And to add to this, regardless of whatever I changed regarding my looks, I could never take away my lisp, that came from my cleft lip, which had been with me all my life and often been the cause of my being bullied. To some, I was odd; to others a joke. Yet still I had gathered enough strength to keep my own identity, to study hard and get high grades throughout, and to fight for the things I believed in with every last calorie. Oh yes, and I wasn’t fat but I always found it really hard to be anything less than chunky. That was just who I was. Never designed to be super thin. Always doing tonnes of cardio just to stay the build that I am now. Healthy but definitely far from a stick insect.

As I walked into the waiting room, having signed into the reception of this rather grand Main Street address, the first thing that caught my eye was the array of slim, perfectly suited and booted candidates who sat there, motionless and quiet, reading their notes carefully but with an air of confidence about them. You can read confidence easily. It lies in positioning and stature. These guys were all sat bolt upright, yet they didn’t look uncomfortable. Their heads were neutral and never looking down for more than half a second perhaps just to double check that their laces were still perfectly knotted. They even seemed to breathe in a synchronised fashion. They all looked over to me as I walked in and headed for the only remaining chair. They presented momentary false smiles and then returned to their notes. I tried hard not to fall over after having found the entire journey so incredibly painful and now having a feeling that my feet were starting to lose circulation. In fact, my feet felt as if they were about to go completely numb and as I sat down I panicked that I might never be able to stand up on them again.

It took me a moment to get my bearings and then the panic really set in. As I looked around I was drawn to the files that each candidate had next to them. Each person had at least one folder of paperwork and I started to think that I might have missed a memo or something. Should I have brought some evidence with me? I was easily intimidated at the best of times but right now, seeing their impressive bundles of work, I was starting to feel the need for some air. Maybe I ought to just leg it out of there and give this whole interview the two fingers. Just as I began running through a possible escape route in my head, somebody called my name. “Miss Longton.”

I hated hearing that name. It reminded me of my step dad. As soon as I had some financial freedom I fully intended on changing it back to my mum’s maiden name, “Standen.” A smartly dressed guy in his thirties beckoned me into a room. I picked myself off the floor (not literally, but that was how it felt) before making a beeline for the room where I was presented with two ladies sat at a desk, with a chair in the middle and one seat across from them, waiting for an occupant. The man sat between them and started things off with introductions. Apparently two of them were partners in the firm and one was a quality assurance lady, who worked for a couple of companies. They all sat with friendly smiles and I was pleased that they at least felt like reasonable people, not the stuck up bosses that I feared when I lay awake at two in the morning, going through the interview prep again and again in my thoughts.

They went over my resume and explained to me about the training contract. After that they began to ask the usual questions about contracts and torts. I put my nerves aside and gave it my best shot. Everything seemed very rushed. Before I knew it, they were onto the personal stuff. I half expected them to demand to see my folder. Instead they started more of a conversation than a probing interrogation.

Sam (the lady on the left who was responsible for assurance) simply said, “I see lawyers all the time. Every day people with the abilities to show off extraordinary knowledge. Lawyers have to be rounded people though. I think I try to be rounded. I keep looking after my garden. I read lots of romance books. I love a girlie night with my old school friends. Are you rounded?”
A little thrown off the scent, I opened my mouth and gave an instinctive answer. “I mean, I try to be. In fact I don’t exactly try. I just am. I like all sorts. Short weekend city breaks, catch ups at coffee shops and cheesy movies at the cinema washed down with ice junkies.” I stopped there and before I could think of anything else to say, the guy jumped in.

“I really have a thing for languages. I use an app to keep my skills going in German. I see you learned German. Is that where you go on these breaks?”
“To be honest I haven’t used my German much since college, but it came in handy when I visited Vienna. Recently I went to Luxembourg. Amazing castles there if you like that kind of thing.” I smiled, starting to feel more at ease but also a little curious as to why we were chatting about anything that wasn’t law.
“We have a few German clients,” said the other lady. Jill was her name. “It would be handy if one of our future lawyers could speak German and your reference mentioned that you are very good at it.”

“Well, I worked in a bar whilst at Uni and she ran a German festival so I guess I honed my skills during that.”
“I love books too,” continued Jill. “Who is your favourite novelist? Mine is Sophie K. I love her modern tales of shopping and dating.”

I chuckled as I’d literally just finished reading one of hers. “She is a writer that always makes me laugh. I am into fantasy too though, and you can’t beat J K for that.”

They all laughed and we returned to some discussions about the law, mulling over a case study that had been sent in readiness for today. I had prepared my argument and put forward the strengths and weaknesses of the subject. After this, they said their farewells and I walked out feeling a mixture of relief and puzzled. The others still sat in the waiting room with their folders and notes, looking confident. I smiled as I went by but nobody even so much as flinched. Before long, I was back on the bus and inside my porch, peeling off those shoes as if they were plasters. I felt every movement in the same way you do when hair is removed. I should have just ripped them off in half a second but instead I took my time. Mum must have heard me and opened the door to give me the third degree that she always could be relied upon to execute. I muttered some half-hearted run through of events before rushing upstairs and jumping on my bed where I instantly fell into a deep sleep, which took me through till tea time when mum woke me and made me the tastiest feast ever.

In my mind, I had closed the book on it. After all I hadn’t heard anything and there really wasn’t a hope in hell of me getting it. My answers were probably fairly lame compared to theirs and I definitely didn’t have the credentials that the others must’ve had. I was wearing a cheap suit from a discount shop and you can’t avoid my accessories. But, I love all that. My style is very personal to me and even if I never get a job in law, I’ll always feel comfortable in my own skin so long as I can dress the way that I want. Regardless, my nerves were still fraught so I called Jam and asked her to meet me down the pub after tea. It was half seven when I rocked up in ‘The Badger’s Armpit’. My local had a dodgy name but it was such a great place to chill. We often went to a pub quiz there on Tuesdays but today was a quiet night so we decided to grab the pool table and have a play. I was midway through my second Jack Daniels when Jam started quizzing me.

“You’re not saying much about what happened. Come on. Get it off your chest.”
I potted a ball and turned to her. “It was interesting. Lots of suits applying for the job. Most looked like they went to Cambridge and had parents with stately homes. The interviewers were very friendly. Not at all patronising. I must admit, I’d have loved working under them.”
“It’s not over till the…”
She was cut off by my phone. I took it out of my pocket and an unknown caller ID was on the screen. I answered assuming it was probably someone asking me if I’d had an accident and wanted to make a claim. I was ready to tell them to stick it up their… Well you can imagine. I stopped abruptly. It was the lady from the law company. She sounded very serious.

God! I couldn’t take a rejection call now. Not at this time. Not here. I steadied myself against the pool table and politely told her that I could speak and she wasn’t disturbing my night.

The next two minutes were a blur. My mouth was wide open the whole time and I must’ve looked as though I were a fish to anybody in the pub who happened to saunter past. I thanked her for the feedback and put down my mobile. Well, to some it may have seemed that I dropped it. I was stunned.

Jam was waiting and ushering me so I relayed the whole story as best as I could.
“She told me I wasn’t going to get that job. She then said I delivered an excellent interview and should be very proud of myself.”
“Oh mate. Let me get you a drink. At least you know now.”
“That’t not quite it. She then told me I was too good for the job.”
“She sure knows how to sugar coat it.” She smiled at me, still unable to read my face.
“Then…. She told me she had another training contract for me at their new office downtown. An accelerated training post. Fast track. I’m going to work for them and I’m so bloody shocked.”
I sat down and she came round to hug me. I leaned into her and we sat for a minute as we both took in what I’d said.
“You’re a legend, mate.”
“Just goes to show. You can never tell what people are thinking.”
“You definitely impressed them. They didn’t just judge you on looks. They got to know the real brilliant person that I know and love. You rocked that interview!”

It just goes to show, not everyone judges people on first impressions. Some people take time to get to know you. I was over the moon with my appointment and went on to become a senior partner within five years. I still wear my nose ring and tattoos with pride and love everything about my life right now, even though parts of it are less than conventional.

Short Dates – A Book Extract

AFF – There is an Amazon affiliate link below which, if used to purchase a product, will lead to a kickback for myself.

Complaint Lover

 

The gate banged in the distance, as the wind could be heard to whistle by, bending and distorting anything which happened to get in its way. It was very late at night and as usual I was busy replying to my endless stack of emails to do with work. In amongst them I noticed an electric bill, standing out because of its colourful logo. I marked it to be read and finished an email to my boss requesting a holiday before boiling the kettle for the fifth time and stretching my legs to avoid deep vein thrombosis. While getting up to close the curtains, I realised that I was freezing cold and so went to turn up the heating, before eventually getting around to opening that email containing my latest bill.

 

My blood seemed to boil instantly as I scanned my eyes over to the total cost of usage. How dare they say that I owed that much? That was insane. Either the whole town was tapped into my meter and was draining power from me, or my son was using enough electric to fuel a thousand games consoles, but I was pretty sure he only had the one. All thoughts of work emails flew out of my head and I thumped my fist against the table, knocking my cup of tea over and spilling it onto my favourite jumper.

 

My first instinct was to call them but I soon realised that their call centre was long closed and I would not be able to get through until the following day. I logged into their online chat instead and left a furious email, slagging them off and using colourful language that I usually only reserved for my ex-husband. The cat looked at me as if to say, ‘here she goes again,’ disapprovingly. I glared back at it and slammed the laptop closed.

 

Before going to bed, I turned the heating off, unplugged everything I could think of, filled up two hot water bottles (one for me and one for Kieran) and went into my bedroom to sulk. Luckily the sulk soon slipped into a deep sleep and the next thing I knew it was time for my alarm to ring. I never had been one to struggle to get some sleep, luckily.

 

This meant I was fresh and raring to go as I stomped downstairs. Still reeling from my discovery, I told Kieran that he would have to wear extra layers of clothing as we couldn’t afford the heating any more. He looked at me with an expression not unlike the cat’s and grunted, ‘Whatever!’ and then wandered off into the garage to get his bike and go to school.

 

I remembered that I was working from home this morning and so this would be a perfect opportunity to lay into that stupid electric company. Anyone that knew me at all was well aware that I blew hot and cold and this was just something you had to get used to. Maybe that was why I was so useless at keeping men. Kieran’s dad had got so fed up that he ran off with the vet. It hadn’t struck me that he had taken the cat to the vet an awful lot in the months leading up to our separation, no doubt trying to seduce her.

 

 My friends and colleagues also knew that I loved to complain about things. Even just last month I had gone to stay in a hotel where the curtain was coming off the rail and the workman had to be called to fix it. As a result I wrote a stinking letter of complaint which resulted in a voucher for a free night’s stay. People could call me what they liked but the fact was that when I complained, I always got my voice heard. This time would not be any different, as far as I was concerned. I was not prepared to pay such a large fee just because they said so.

 

My laptop fired up as I stroked the cat awkwardly, still unsure if it was able to judge me or not. It purred slightly so I guessed it must have forgiven me after all. The emails opened and the chat window refreshed. A small message asked me to get in touch at my earliest convenience as they were sure they could help me by explaining my bill to me. Feeling patronised I took ten deep breaths and then started typing into the live chat box.

 

Straight away it told me that a customer assistant would be dealing with me and this one began with the usual password checks and verifying my existence. After this he said that he would find it easier to discuss these issues over the phone. Quickly considering my options I decided to go with that, even though I had already logged into the website, which had felt like a massive effort in itself.

 

He offered to call me and when I picked up the phone I was surprised by the silkiness of his voice. It was soft, but not too soft. He sounded as though he were in his mid-twenties with a well spoken southerly accent. His name soon came up as Jenson and I thought to myself that that was a nice name, reminding me of a famous racing driver. Already I was in a less stressed state and so this conversation was going to be had without shouting and screaming. I realised that I was being charmed by a posh accent and pulled myself together, managing to find the anger again which had driven me to contacting him to start with.

To read more of this story, check out my short stories collection. I have added an affiliate link below.

Old Matches – an extract

Today I wanted to share an extract from one of my short stories. This was influenced from a year when I spent a summer and winter working weekends in a care home. People work so hard in these environments and currently the shortage of staff is very much in the News. Here is a sample of ‘Old Matches’.

People in care homes often have such touching stories.

My back hurt. My legs ached. My head was pounding. The only thing making me feel like life wasn’t that bad right now was the fact that I was surrounded by a lot of people who were much older than me. In fact, they were older in years but many of them seemed a lot happier than me. Carefree came to mind with most of them. All except for one. Bob. Bob was like looking at a reflection of myself in the mirror. Not that I was nearly as old as him and probably I had time to collect that many wrinkles, but it was his demeanour that reminded me of me. He always looked like he had just missed the bus, which meant that he had an expression that declared he was fed up, worn out, past bothering and keen for time to pass. That was me without any doubt.

 

I was fed up with doing twelve hour shifts at this ridiculously short staffed care home. I was worn out by the fact that it was a very practical and quite back-breaking job. In my love life I had come to feel that quite frankly it wasn’t worth bothering any more. Yes – just like Bob, I spent my days waiting for time to pass. Although I was never really sure what I was waiting for. In fact, like Bob, I had that miserable feeling that I had missed my calling. Again, sadly, nobody had yet revealed to me what exactly that calling should be.

 

As I drifted off into my own little world as usual and sipped my tea with a slurp, I had no idea that I had been targeted to look after a new member of staff.

The first I knew about it was when Bob said, “Give us a cup of tea!’ in his usual mannerless way.

‘Just let me have two minutes Bob,’ I replied sternly.

‘I weren’t talking to you, dingbat. I meant her,’ came his short reply.

I turned my head to see a new girl standing behind me. She had just walked in and Bob had already grabbed her attention. As she poured him a tea she looked at me with a squint, trying to read my badge.

‘Oh, you’re James,’ she said in a fresh northern accent.

‘Yes and you will have to excuse Bob. Just his way.’

She handed him the cup and asked him to try it. He tried hard to smile so as to get her to go away. You never really knew if he was satisfied. He was not the sort of man to show emotions apart from unhappiness. Grumpy was the name most of us used for him affectionately. I always felt sorry for him though as nobody ever came to see him. His wife had died many years previously and he was alone in the world. Quite mysterious though and very guarded. It certainly made us all intrigued about his past.

I wrote a book of short stories called ‘Short Dates’ and here is another sample of it. If you enjoy my posts perhaps consider subscribing to my blog for similar future articles.