“I don’t wanna go. Please don’t make me
go.” Keith begged. “You know I hate them. They look at me like I don’t know
what I’m talking about.”
“Lets
not go through this again, dear.” Lynn
shook her head at her husband. “It’s an interview, that’s all. You’ve had loads
now.”
“I
know.” Keith looked at himself in the mirror, his tie didn’t match the shirt
he’d picked out, and the collar had been starched too much. “I just worry about
the questions they’re going to ask. I look a right idiot when I can’t answer
them properly.” He pulled his tie free again and marched back into the bedroom.
“You
should write down their questions then, so you can learn for next time. You’re
not going to get any better unless you try.” She walked to the door. “Put the
blue tie on, love. The one Deidre bought you for Christmas, that’s a nice one.”
“I
can’t wear that one. It’s got a stain on it from when we had dinner with Sally
and Michael last month. I told you about it at the time.”
“Well,
I don’t remember. It won’t come out now though; you might as well just throw
that one away then. Try the black one.”
“Black
one is for funerals. It looks wrong at an interview, sets the wrong ambiance
with them.”
“What
else do you have then?” She could hear him moaning from inside the room. “Are
you decent? I’m coming in.”
Keith
was sat on the bed, his shirt un-tucked around his waste as he held the two
ties in his hands. The first was a comical one someone had bought him a few
years ago, not at all appropriate, the other black, as Keith called it, funeral
tie in the other.
“Wear
the black one with the dark blue shirt, that should look okay.”
“Do
I have to go. I really don’t feel up to it. I think I might be coming down with
something.”
“Keith
Michael Brown, don’t you dare do this to me. You are not sick, just nervous,
you know you have to go.”
“Why
though?”
“Because
you’re the bloody Boss.”
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