Fell asleep at my desk last night. Not sure why. Oh my god. Oh my god, everything hurts. Never let me sleep over a desk like that again.
"Uh... Jamie?" Marty's almost concerned voice makes me look up. Can't you see I'm busy trying to make my spine agree that it should be straight again? He smiles a little and puts a Starbucks coffee down on the desk next to the paper work I fell asleep on. "You work yourself too much, get some proper rest tonight," he says on his way out. He pauses and turns back, hovering in the doorway, "oh and don't forget that interview in an hour."
"Shit," I mutter, "shit. Wait, why did you get a coffee from Starbucks, we have a cafe of our own-" I look up and my protest dies right there on my lips, ‘cause Marty already disappeared. With a groan, I thud my head back down on the desk. Somewhere in my head, I'd imagined that ream of paper to act like a cushion. It really didn't.
I pull on a pair of sweats and a top and hit the treadmill with my coffee, trying to wake up a little before the interview. After that, I take a shower and attempt to find something vaguely smart to wear. Jeans and a button up shirt are smart, right? No, don't be stupid. Just drive home and - be late to the interview. Whichever way I do it, I'll look like an unprofessional douche.
Whatever, I'll go with being late.
In the end, I'm about twenty minutes late, but I look smart and gave myself time to reread her CV.
"Hey excuse me? I'm looking for Jamie Cross," a red haired woman says as I walk into the gym.
"I'm Jamie. You must be Chrissie, right? Sorry I'm so late, I just- this way," I cut myself off and change the subject, not able to think of an excuse for why I'm late. Not like you can admit to a potential employee that your life is so screwed up that you fall asleep in the middle of paperwork more often than not, regardless of where you are, and that you therefore only leave yourself an hour to wake up enough to function after a shitty sleep.
"Don't worry about it," she says, following me to the room set aside for meetings and interviews.
"Please, take a seat," I gesture at the chair set out for her as I do my best not to flop into mine like a tired rag doll.