have more success finding a match by now. I guess I’m off my
game. That’s my fault, not yours. I really, really need this job.
Not that I mean to put pressure on you. I don’t. It’s just that
my boss will absolutely fire me if you give up. So please,
don’t do that. Let me have one more chance. Please. I don’t
want to say that
I’m begging you, but I’m begging you.
I sit there, getting even sweatier. My phone just about
slips out of my hands. I can’t put this on Adley. I know it’s me.
I type out a few responses, assuring her that I’ll make things
right with her boss. That I’ll leave a good review. That I won’t
ask for my fees back. That I’ll say that I changed my mind.
I delete all of it.
I pause, my fingers hovering over the phone’s
keyboard. Before I can write a response, another email pops
up.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out or be pushy. That
was extremely rude of me. I wasn’t thinking. If you want to
take a break, that’s totally understandable. I should never have
said anything about my employment status. That’s my
problem. It doesn’t really have anything to do with you. If you
want to take a break or stop, then you can just let me know.
It’s fine. I’ll make sure everything is fine. I’m sorry again. If
you want to meet up and maybe go over a few more questions
with me to give it another shot, I’d really appreciate it. If not,
that’s totally fine too.
I don’t hesitate. I find myself typing and sending off a
response almost before I can even consciously think about it. I
stare at the words after. A time. A restaurant.
Adley’s response is immediate again, stating that