Sherry tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable plastic chair while Mr. Needleman reviewed the single sheet of paper he took from a folder with her name on it. She studied his crispy coiffed hair, mustache, tan skin, and manicured fingernails.  Discreetly, she smoothed some tangles in her own hair and pulled off a hangnail. It felt longer than it should for him to finish reading her short resume and the results from the typing test she had just completed. 

"Thirty-five words a minute," he stated lifting his glasses and moving the paper closer to his eyes as if that might increase Sherry's typing speed. He made a face that unmistakably suggested disdain. "We won't be able to place you as a secretary."

"Ok," said Sherry, void of emotion. It wasn't like she had gone to this temp agency expecting to find her dream job. She and Abe just needed SOME money to travel.

Mr. Needleman didn't make eye contact while he put Sherry's paperwork back into the manila folder and placed it into a large metal filing cabinet behind him. Then he spun through a Rolodex on his desk, placed a finger on the card he was looking for, and copied the address down on a sheet of paper with his other hand. He pushed the paper across the desk to Sherry.

"Report to this address downtown at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow," said Mr. Needleman. "The job entails mostly filing." 

"Thank you, sir," said Sherry meekly. Her face burned. Filing. Filing was all she was qualified to do after four years at an expensive university. Worthless.

As Mr. Needleman escorted Sherry back to the waiting room, she glanced through a glass window into a larger, tastefully decorated office. There, Abe sat smiling and laughing in an overstuffed armchair. The temp agency manager leaned back in his chair across the desk, clearly in stitches as well. Abe blinked his long lashes and the manager's face twisted into a coy smile. Damn, he's flirting with him, thought Sherry. Well, when in San Fransisco. At least one of them would land a good job.

The next day, Sherry returned to her friend's apartment at noon and was surprised to find Abe sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer, still wearing the shirt and tie he had borrowed that morning.

"Why are you home so soon?" she asked helping herself to a beer in the fridge. 

"I got fired," said Abe without remorse. 

"Because you bullshitted your way into a managerial job you weren't qualified for," said Sherry rolling her eyes while she kicked the fridge closed with her foot.  

"That's what everyone does in job interviews," said Abe. 

Sherry snorted but otherwise ignored his comment.

"Why are you home?" he asked.

"I finished the filing job in three hours. They thought it would take me three days and they didn't have any more work for me so they let me go." They sat in silence finishing their beers. Sherry ate a slice of stale bread from a package lying open on the table. "When do you want to head to San Diego?" she asked.

"How about tomorrow," said Abe.

"Sounds good to me."