If you look back at the first post, Mic said the other interviews were important but he wanted to begin with the interview with Peter. The comments Liz made to Jill might shed some insight.

As you may recall, I met Louise on the mezzanine level Saturday morning after dropping off Lucy. We greeted one another and shook hands. Louise leads the way to an elevator marked Human Resources and pushes the top button.

"Oh my," I say, looking at the wall behind her. Over a hundred framed photographs decorate the Wall of Fame showing Doc's Place employees with twenty, thirty and forty years of service. "That's a nice touch. People have really worked here since the forties?"

"Oh yes," says Louise. "We're proud of our loyal, dedicated employees. When did you get into Reno, Jill?"

As the elevator door opens slowly, I assess Louise's stance. She holds her hands down in front of herself, trying to keep them still. Her knees may be trembling slightly. Her shoulders are drawn in, tense. She seems to compare her big, broad body to my slim form and tries to appear smaller. I find her eyes behind the big, tinted glasses and say, "I arrived a couple days ago, Louise. Visited close friends who introduced me around. Reno is a friendly city."

"The biggest little city in the world," says Louise with a smile, quoting the Reno arch as she leads me into the small elevator. "I'm glad you made friends already. You're almost finished with your master's degree?"

Awkward segue, must have memorized a list of questions. I watch her eyes until they stop wandering all over the elevator, then nod, "Mm-hm, writing my thesis." I'm about to add a comment when she asks another question from the list.

"Ah, the thesis," she says, "Seems like you'll never finish, doesn't it?"

Translation: do I really intend to finish? "Yes, but it's coming together. I'll submit it and defend this spring."

"That's great," says Louise. The elevator doors open slowly into a foyer. Applicants probably fill out a form and await their interview here. The foyer has five doors: benefits office, a personnel office with a reception window next to the door, a couple of hallways and probably the stairway beside the elevator.

Louise leads me into the personnel office where a tall, thin, pleasant-looking man is standing. "Jill Price, this is George Wright. George will ask you a few preliminary questions, Jill, and provide some information about our generous benefits here at Doc's." She says this with a smile, which means she's probably serious, and then walks away.

Sounds like a tour guide—generous benefits, biggest little city and dedicated employees. If Louise Northcutt believes this crap, then she's full of it.

George extends his hand and stares at my chest. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as we shake hands. George has a weak handshake and releases pressure quickly so I release his hand. He asks me to sit, waits for me and then seats himself. He shows me an employment application form. As I look it over, he says that since I am applying for a management position, he will have a staff member type it on Monday.

Look at him, a bureaucrat convinced he's doing me a favor. George Wright wears a tee shirt under his polo shirt. He has no wedding band, no tan and no muscle tone. He cannot hold my look for a full second. George does not live up to his potential and may never. Leaning forward slightly, I say, "George."

He leans toward me and says, "Yes?"

"Thank you for coming in on your Saturday," I tell him soberly.

"Why, you're welcome, Jill, but really you know, it's my job."

"Comparing this application form to my resume, the only information items I see missing are reasons for leaving my last employer." I hand him the form.

He sets it aside, picks up a pen and a pad and writes, "Reasons for Jill leaving." He writes a 1 and circles it. The pen is poised above the pad.

"I held my last three jobs while completing work toward my master's degree at the University, George," I tell him seriously. "I quit all three for the same reason: I completed my comps and defense."

"Comps? Defense?" he says.

"Yes. Universities require students to write comprehensive examinations, or comps, to demonstrate understanding of graduate coursework. Students defend their responses with their committee."

George looks down at his pad and then back at me. Obviously, he does not know what to write.

"Just write, `Completed coursework. Anticipates receiving Master's in April 1985', George," I tell him. He does so. "Now, before grad school. . . ."

"Excuse me, Jill," says George.

"Yes?"

"Don't you have to write a thesis or something to graduate?"

Look into his eyes. "Yes, my program requires that I write a thesis."

"Oh," says George. "So, when will you finish your thesis?"

"I plan to submit and defend before April."

He looks at his pad and then back at me. "And then you will receive your master's degree." He follows my eyes to what he has written and says, "You're probably thinking you could have done this without my help," he says. "Sorry."

Place my hand on his. "Do I seem impatient, George?"

He smiles slightly at me and then looks at my hand on his. "No. You've answered every question completely." Finally, he looks at me again, eyes wide.

Remove my hand. "Before resigning to attend grad school, I was publications manager at Morris Bemerson," I tell him.

"Right," he says. He shifts his weight in the chair and writes a 2, circles it and writes, `Resigned to attend grad school'."

"I accepted a promotion to manager from technical writer," I tell him.

He writes a 3 with a circle and `Promoted to manager'." He picks up my resume and looks at it. "Maybe one more, Jill, if you please," he says. He writes a 4, circles it and looks at the pad.

"I resigned at the sheltered workshop because I wanted to work in business."

"Higher pay?" asks George, still looking at the pad.

"It was higher pay but that's not why I left, George."

He nods and writes, `Wanted to work in business' next to the 4. He looks at me, smiles and I smile in return. He taps the pen on the pad for a moment. "Jill," he says, "One of your interviews for this position is with Peter Marriott. Peter is the corporate counsel for Ferro Corporation. Ferro owns Doc's Place."

Watch him patiently. George probably likes me and wants to help me get this position. He is about to tell me something that perhaps he should not.

Looks into my eyes and says, "We interviewed a lot of people for this position. We rejected all but one and he didn't last a month. Peter told Louise to fire him and reject all other applicants but you. If you don't work out, Peter will have someone at Ferro corporate offices in Las Vegas write the magazine and fill the other functions." George looks at his pad and then at me again. "I'm going to be frank here. Louise asked Peter why he rejected the others. He told her that none of them had the stones to do the job. I don't even know if it's useful information but don't show him you're intimidated."

"Thank you," I tell George.

"Doc's has a three-month probation in which we can terminate you for any reason or no reason." When I say nothing in response, he continues. "Benefits," he says, picking up a pamphlet and sliding it across. "It's all in here. After a year, you get two weeks' vacation. You get one meal a day in the employee cafeteria." He shrugs, "It's okay except for the fish on Friday is really bad." George's expression backs that up. "A couple things not in the book are the free parking in Doc's garage across the Row—you'll get an assigned space—and the free health club membership on Matley Lane."