The Promise by Dan Walsh Page B

muttered aloud. He had everything else they were asking for, including a bachelor’s degree. They mentioned “computer science or network engineering” and then added “or equivalent.” His degree was in business management, but he minored in computer science. And they were asking for three years of experience; Tom had five.
    He could do this job. He was perfect for it. This thing described to a T what he’d done for the bank over the last five years before they let him go.
    Let me go. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. No, don’t go there. Keep a positive attitude. Look him in the eye. Smile a lot. Give short answers. Sit up straight. Don’t crack your knuckles. Stay confident. Act like you’re perfect for the job, because you are. But don’t get cocky. Nobody likes a know-it-all.
    He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

    Tom couldn’t help it. He was nervous. There was so much at stake. The starting pay for this job wasn’t quite as much as he’d made in his last one, but it was a decent salary with solid benefits. If he got it, his financial problems would be over. They hadn’t lost the house, not yet. Foreclosure proceedings hadn’t even begun; he’d only missed four payments so far. From what he’d read, he could string this thing out for over a year.
    He didn’t want to, of course. And he certainly didn’t think he could keep up this charade for that long, but if he could start making mortgage payments again, he might still have a chance to restore his credit, maybe get a bank to work with him on some kind of loan modification.
    Of course, the tricky thing here was not what to do about the house, or the car loan (which was two months overdue), or the credit cards.
    It was how to tell all this to Jean.
    No, don’t think about that now. Keep a positive attitude. That’s what they’re looking for.
    He looked around the waiting room, which he shared with two other out-of-work IT guys. They didn’t talk much, other than to confirm they were there for the job interview. After that, they read magazines or checked for messages on their phones. Tom was the best dressed of the lot. One of the guys wore jeans and a pullover shirt. Was he kidding? Tom thought. What a moron.
    Tom was next.
    The door opened. A tall, thin, balding fellow with little John Lennon eyeglasses walked out. Midthirties, dark mustache. He was smiling like he had the job but then stopped when he noticed the other guys looking at him. Insecure, Tom thought. Not a leader. Not so fast, Bub, they haven’t interviewed me yet .
    That’s right, stay confident.
    â€œMr. Anderson?” The receptionist called out his name. “You may go in. Mr. Hampton will see you now. The first door on your left.”
    Tom took a deep breath and got out of his chair. “Thanks,” he said as he nodded. He walked through the same door the other guy had come out of, then tapped gently on the first door in the hallway. It was closed but not shut all the way. He walked in before being asked. Be assertive. They’re looking for a team leader.
    â€œThere you are, Mr. . . .” The man looked down at his resume. “Anderson. Have a seat.” Mr. Hampton had a pleasant face. He was about his dad’s age and—Tom was happy to see—he wore a suit. “You’re here about the network administrator job, correct?”
    Tom sat in the office chair. “That’s right, sir.”
    â€œPlease, call me Sid,” he said. “I see here you have five years’ experience. That’s good. Were you the team leader the entire time?”
    â€œFor the last three years I was, sir. I mean . . . Sid.” He’s got to be wondering, if you were such a good leader, why’d they get rid of you? No, stop.
    â€œSo, tell me a little bit about your old job. What were your day-to-day responsibilities?”
    Tom spent the