The man at the
next booth, with a parting shake of the hand to his new recruit,
glanced over at us, quickly, casually, but assessingly. Yep, he
could play James Bond in real life, never mind a movie.
The woman missed his
glance, having pivoted on one heel to glare at the young man.
“Connor…”
The young man sighed
loudly. “Fine. Katrina, can you please tell this lady what the
salary range is for new hires.”
As she turned her glare
from him, she transformed it into a smile of greeting to me.
Strained, but a smile. I guessed I could count that in the report.
“Naturally, salary is dependent upon experience.”
“ Naturally,” I nodded,
relieved to be back on script. “I just wanted a ballpark
range.”
Her smile lost its strain
as she, too, returned to script. “I’m Katrina, and you
are?”
“ Molly,” I said, using my
real name, as instructed.
“ Molly, what a lovely
old-fashioned name. Why don’t you fill in an application, and let
me review your experience. I’d be able to tell you a little more
once I have that information.”
She turned to her son,
“Connor, can you please bring up the application on the
tablet.”
He put down his game with
a sigh and picked up a tablet and tapped it a few times, until an
application form appeared. “Here you go.” He thrust the tablet at
me unceremoniously.
I had no trouble playing
the part of a reluctant applicant. “No thank you, I’m just getting
some preliminary information. I’m not ready to apply
yet.”
I could have wept with joy
when she kept to the script, despite her son’s trying behavior. “Of
course, here’s my card. You’ll find the application on-line when
you’re ready. Feel free to call me if you have any further
questions.”
“ I will,” I lied, and
turned away to see the handsome man at the next booth aiming an
unfairly devastating smile at me.
I stumbled toward him,
unable to resist the call of that smile. “So, is this a good place
to work?” I fumbled with a stack of brochures, not really reading
them. I needed to write down the details of my shop before I forgot
them.
“ Depends if you like spy
work or not, Molly,” he said without missing a beat.
I froze. He knew my name.
Had he guessed I was a mystery shopper? And then I saw the
understated signage on his table. Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Duh. Fed. Connor had been right.
Mr. Fed had simply
eavesdropped on Katrina and me as we talked. Not hard to do here,
in an almost empty room. The job fair was not that well attended at
this time of day. In a few hours the college students would awake
and be on the prowl for jobs.
“ Domestic only,” I joked,
hoping neither the spy, nor Katrina — who had resumed her gaping at
him as soon as I left her table — would ever learn that I was a
mystery shopper. “I spy on my kids.”
“ We’re looking to fill
domestic and international jobs.” He held out a brochure, and I
suddenly wondered what would happen if I took the brochure. If I
applied. If I got that “real” job that Seth was always talking
about. That spy job I used to dream about when I was a
kid.
I took the brochure and
politely pretended to read through it before I glanced back at him,
skeptically. “I’m pretty sure the FBI doesn’t need someone to drive
carpool for them.”
He gestured, and suddenly
there was a woman by his side. “My partner, Martie Grimes, can
attest that women, even moms, do get hired here.”
I started, feeling guilty.
I hadn’t even noticed her there, in his shadow. I smiled at her
extra-brightly, hoping she didn’t realize my
inattention.
Martie Grimes gave me a
sober nod. “True enough. I hope to practice some of my
bureau-learned techniques on my son when he’s a
teenager.”
We all three involuntarily
glanced over at Katrina and her son.
“ I’m glad to hear it,” I
said, “But I don’t think my family is ready for me to be a
full-time spy.” I smiled, so she’d know I didn’t mean it in a
judgmental
next booth, with a parting shake of the hand to his new recruit,
glanced over at us, quickly, casually, but assessingly. Yep, he
could play James Bond in real life, never mind a movie.
The woman missed his
glance, having pivoted on one heel to glare at the young man.
“Connor…”
The young man sighed
loudly. “Fine. Katrina, can you please tell this lady what the
salary range is for new hires.”
As she turned her glare
from him, she transformed it into a smile of greeting to me.
Strained, but a smile. I guessed I could count that in the report.
“Naturally, salary is dependent upon experience.”
“ Naturally,” I nodded,
relieved to be back on script. “I just wanted a ballpark
range.”
Her smile lost its strain
as she, too, returned to script. “I’m Katrina, and you
are?”
“ Molly,” I said, using my
real name, as instructed.
“ Molly, what a lovely
old-fashioned name. Why don’t you fill in an application, and let
me review your experience. I’d be able to tell you a little more
once I have that information.”
She turned to her son,
“Connor, can you please bring up the application on the
tablet.”
He put down his game with
a sigh and picked up a tablet and tapped it a few times, until an
application form appeared. “Here you go.” He thrust the tablet at
me unceremoniously.
I had no trouble playing
the part of a reluctant applicant. “No thank you, I’m just getting
some preliminary information. I’m not ready to apply
yet.”
I could have wept with joy
when she kept to the script, despite her son’s trying behavior. “Of
course, here’s my card. You’ll find the application on-line when
you’re ready. Feel free to call me if you have any further
questions.”
“ I will,” I lied, and
turned away to see the handsome man at the next booth aiming an
unfairly devastating smile at me.
I stumbled toward him,
unable to resist the call of that smile. “So, is this a good place
to work?” I fumbled with a stack of brochures, not really reading
them. I needed to write down the details of my shop before I forgot
them.
“ Depends if you like spy
work or not, Molly,” he said without missing a beat.
I froze. He knew my name.
Had he guessed I was a mystery shopper? And then I saw the
understated signage on his table. Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Duh. Fed. Connor had been right.
Mr. Fed had simply
eavesdropped on Katrina and me as we talked. Not hard to do here,
in an almost empty room. The job fair was not that well attended at
this time of day. In a few hours the college students would awake
and be on the prowl for jobs.
“ Domestic only,” I joked,
hoping neither the spy, nor Katrina — who had resumed her gaping at
him as soon as I left her table — would ever learn that I was a
mystery shopper. “I spy on my kids.”
“ We’re looking to fill
domestic and international jobs.” He held out a brochure, and I
suddenly wondered what would happen if I took the brochure. If I
applied. If I got that “real” job that Seth was always talking
about. That spy job I used to dream about when I was a
kid.
I took the brochure and
politely pretended to read through it before I glanced back at him,
skeptically. “I’m pretty sure the FBI doesn’t need someone to drive
carpool for them.”
He gestured, and suddenly
there was a woman by his side. “My partner, Martie Grimes, can
attest that women, even moms, do get hired here.”
I started, feeling guilty.
I hadn’t even noticed her there, in his shadow. I smiled at her
extra-brightly, hoping she didn’t realize my
inattention.
Martie Grimes gave me a
sober nod. “True enough. I hope to practice some of my
bureau-learned techniques on my son when he’s a
teenager.”
We all three involuntarily
glanced over at Katrina and her son.
“ I’m glad to hear it,” I
said, “But I don’t think my family is ready for me to be a
full-time spy.” I smiled, so she’d know I didn’t mean it in a
judgmental
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