appeared in the morning with a killer hangover.
In the cold light of day Jo still felt awkward about having seen Charlie with another girl, and it wasn’t until Amelia asked
Jo what she planned on wearing to her interview that Jo realised she had to put what she had seen the night before out of
her head. Amelia had knocked back an Alka-Seltzer and dragged Jo back to the maternity shop in Winchester – they managed to
find a skirt that sat on the knee, along with a simple white blouse and navy jacket. When Jo put it on she felt about thirty,
and when she teamed it with black flats and black tights, she felt forty. The whole outfit had cost far more than Jo could
afford, but Ameliamade her realise it was an investment in her future. Amelia said secretaries in London dressed like this all the time, so
Jo thought she should get used to it.
But as Jo watched some secretaries in the West End taking their lunch-breaks, she wasn’t convinced Amelia knew what she was
talking about after all. Most of the girls looked like models. Many wore tight little blouses and tiny Top Shop mini-skirts
that showed off lean, tanned legs, and all of them sashayed around the shops on heels, ranging from killer stilettos to demure
kittens and sensible courts. Worst of all was that every single one of them had perfect hair.
Jo ruefully remembered how beautiful her hair had looked after Amelia had been at it with her professional hairdryer, but
she resolved to not let her frizzy split ends put her off. She absolutely had to get on this agency’s books and she was determined
to make them see past her appearance. Felicity – the Sloaney-looking recruitment consultant with an Alice band and twin set
– didn’t seem so enthusiastic.
‘Let’s get this straight,’ she said, as she sat opposite Jo in an interview room with light blue walls and computers in the
corner. ‘You’ve not worked as a secretary before?’ Felicity was wondering if the slightly nervous girl in front of her was
for real. She didn’t want to stare at her body, but she’d never encountered anyone so big before. She didn’t know quite how
to break it to this girl that when you were a secretary, looks counted for everything. Felicity wondered if she could convince
some of her favourite managing directors to take Jo on rather than the slender girls she had on the books. It would be impossible.
‘No, I haven’t, Jo said slowly, ‘but I have only just left school … I went to St Christopher’s. In Buckinghamshire.’
Felicity’s back straightened somewhat, and Jo was pleased she had gone to a good boarding school after all.
‘And you have no plans to go to university?’
Jo shook her head and took a deep breath.
‘I was going to, but …’ Jo didn’t want to let on that she’d messed up her exams. ‘But I’d rather just start working. I think
that work experience is as good as going to college.’
When Felicity gave Jo a satisfied little smile she continued. She knew what this woman wanted to hear.
‘I know I haven’t worked before but I did learn to type at school. Luckily for me St Christopher’s was keen – very keen –
to make sure all their girls had a well-rounded education. As well as the usual Latin and lacrosse, we also learnt all our
computer skills.’ Jo let out a little laugh. ‘Not that most of the girls at school would need to know how to turn a computer
on, considering all the eligible men on their doorsteps.’
Felicity looked at Jo curiously, and Jo could see she was winning her over.
‘Why don’t we see for ourselves what you learnt at school … If you could just come this way we’ll give you a typing test …’
Jo aced the test. She breezed through the Microsoft Word, Excel and PowerPoint tests, the telephone-manner test, and excelled
at the different filing situations she was put in during the next hour. Like the girl in Gigolo said, it wasn’t hard.
‘So will you put me on
In the cold light of day Jo still felt awkward about having seen Charlie with another girl, and it wasn’t until Amelia asked
Jo what she planned on wearing to her interview that Jo realised she had to put what she had seen the night before out of
her head. Amelia had knocked back an Alka-Seltzer and dragged Jo back to the maternity shop in Winchester – they managed to
find a skirt that sat on the knee, along with a simple white blouse and navy jacket. When Jo put it on she felt about thirty,
and when she teamed it with black flats and black tights, she felt forty. The whole outfit had cost far more than Jo could
afford, but Ameliamade her realise it was an investment in her future. Amelia said secretaries in London dressed like this all the time, so
Jo thought she should get used to it.
But as Jo watched some secretaries in the West End taking their lunch-breaks, she wasn’t convinced Amelia knew what she was
talking about after all. Most of the girls looked like models. Many wore tight little blouses and tiny Top Shop mini-skirts
that showed off lean, tanned legs, and all of them sashayed around the shops on heels, ranging from killer stilettos to demure
kittens and sensible courts. Worst of all was that every single one of them had perfect hair.
Jo ruefully remembered how beautiful her hair had looked after Amelia had been at it with her professional hairdryer, but
she resolved to not let her frizzy split ends put her off. She absolutely had to get on this agency’s books and she was determined
to make them see past her appearance. Felicity – the Sloaney-looking recruitment consultant with an Alice band and twin set
– didn’t seem so enthusiastic.
‘Let’s get this straight,’ she said, as she sat opposite Jo in an interview room with light blue walls and computers in the
corner. ‘You’ve not worked as a secretary before?’ Felicity was wondering if the slightly nervous girl in front of her was
for real. She didn’t want to stare at her body, but she’d never encountered anyone so big before. She didn’t know quite how
to break it to this girl that when you were a secretary, looks counted for everything. Felicity wondered if she could convince
some of her favourite managing directors to take Jo on rather than the slender girls she had on the books. It would be impossible.
‘No, I haven’t, Jo said slowly, ‘but I have only just left school … I went to St Christopher’s. In Buckinghamshire.’
Felicity’s back straightened somewhat, and Jo was pleased she had gone to a good boarding school after all.
‘And you have no plans to go to university?’
Jo shook her head and took a deep breath.
‘I was going to, but …’ Jo didn’t want to let on that she’d messed up her exams. ‘But I’d rather just start working. I think
that work experience is as good as going to college.’
When Felicity gave Jo a satisfied little smile she continued. She knew what this woman wanted to hear.
‘I know I haven’t worked before but I did learn to type at school. Luckily for me St Christopher’s was keen – very keen –
to make sure all their girls had a well-rounded education. As well as the usual Latin and lacrosse, we also learnt all our
computer skills.’ Jo let out a little laugh. ‘Not that most of the girls at school would need to know how to turn a computer
on, considering all the eligible men on their doorsteps.’
Felicity looked at Jo curiously, and Jo could see she was winning her over.
‘Why don’t we see for ourselves what you learnt at school … If you could just come this way we’ll give you a typing test …’
Jo aced the test. She breezed through the Microsoft Word, Excel and PowerPoint tests, the telephone-manner test, and excelled
at the different filing situations she was put in during the next hour. Like the girl in Gigolo said, it wasn’t hard.
‘So will you put me on
Similar Books
