I click send and there it goes. There is no turning back now. I typed in all of my personal information, hopefully showing them how perfect I would be for the job, and now it is all a waiting game. Will I get a call tomorrow? Next week? Two weeks? Never? There's no way of knowing if I'll ever even get a call back. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in their head when they read my application. Do they laugh at my lack of previous job experience? Maybe they nod their head when they see my through the roof grades.
I push the thoughts of the possibility of getting this physical therapy a**istant job out of my head. One time, there was no doubt in my mind that I would make the Varsity Basketball team in high school, only to be let down when I didn't make a single team. After crying for two hours I promised myself I would never get my hopes up for anything ever again. This includes not getting my hopes up for the job, even though it's been a few years since I didn't make that team, the idea still sticks around in my head.
I put on my cheaply made, plastic nametag for my current minimum wage job. I hate it here, everyone is fake, and the customers treat you like you're a robot, only there to serve them. Sometimes I want to remind them that I'm flesh and blood just like them, but at this moment I can't lose the only job that I have ever had.
Bzzzzzzz. Vibrating comes from cupboard where my purse is kept, and I figure that it can wait. Who really needs me while I'm at work? The last thing I was expecting was a call back from the physical therapy a**istant job, but there it was, one missed call and a voicemail. The walk to the break room feels long, and I'm shaking with excitement. Are they going to ask for an interview? My fingers shake uncontrollably as I type in my voicemail pa**word, and behold, I was called back for an interview.
“Hello? Is this Patricia? I was called, and I'm supposed to make a time for an interview.” I'm hoping to myself that I don't sound too nervous.
“Yes, thank you for calling us back Aubrey. I would love to set up an interview with you. Your resume looks wonderful, and you seem like just the girl we need here. Would Monday at 3:30 work for you?”
“Of course! That would be perfect!” I try not to sound too eager, because I don't want to sound desperate. I'm sure some desperation comes through anyway.
“It was nice talking to you, and I will see you Monday!”
“Thank you!” I hang up, while smiling like an idiot. My cheeks ache from smiling so much. I don't even care if I get the job at this point! I'm just excited that someone thinks I'm good enough for this kind of job. Nothing can bring me down now.