for thirty minutes and nobody showed up. I would have asked the receptionist to direct me where to go, but there seems to be nobody here today. Maybe I got mixed up? I’m here for a job interview.”
Scottie Pile was Wonderland’s longtime games manager, the man in charge of all the game booths in the midway. There was an excellent chance that the kid did have the right day, and that Scottie didn’t come in today because Oscar had said not to.
“Scottie might not be in.” Bianca motioned him in. “But I can make a quick call to confirm that. Have a seat.”
He entered her office cautiously, appearing a bit overwhelmed by its size and luxuriousness. Uncle Nick’s office down the hall—unoccupied and unchanged since he’d stepped away from the day-to-day—was Spartan in comparison to the feminine plushness Bianca had opted for. Two cream-colored chairs sat across from her desk, and she pointed to one of them.
Her call to Scottie went to voice mail, where his recorded greeting informed Bianca that he was working from home.
“He’s not here today.” She hung up the phone. “He should be back tomorrow, though.”
“Oh,” the kid said, looking confused. He stood up. “I guess I did get the days mixed up. Sorry to bother you. Hopefully I can reschedule—”
“I’m sure you had the right day.” Bianca took a seat across from him. His eyes were either green or hazel—she couldn’t quite tell, and she suspected she’d have to be very close to him to know. The thought of getting close to him made her tingle, and she smiled. “We’ve had a . . . situation here today. The park’s closed. You would have seen a sign if you had come in through the main gates, but you probably parked in the administrative lot as Scottie instructed you to, am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked relieved. “I’m glad it wasn’t my mistake. I’ll give Scottie a call and see if I can book another time.”
“You didn’t hear anything about what happened on the news?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I drove in from Seattle, left the house super early this morning to get here on time. I was listening to the radio the entire way but nothing was said about Wonderland. If I’d heard something I’d have turned around, saved myself the three-hour drive.”
Good . “It would be silly for you to reschedule,” Bianca said. “You’ve driven all this way, and I’d be happy to do your interview. I’ve done one or two in my time.” She reached across the desk with her hand extended. “Bianca Bishop, CEO.”
“Xander Cameron. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” Eyes wide as he shook her hand, he suddenly seemed a little intimidated. “I’ve seen your picture on the website, and I should have recognized you. If you don’t mind my saying, you look a lot younger in person.”
“I don’t mind you saying,” Bianca said. “I don’t mind at all.”
• • •
She already knew she was going to hire him. Why wouldn’t she? He had the Wonderland look—young, clean-cut, enthusiastic. Looking the part was the first and most important step to getting hired at Wonderland; everything else could be taught.
The park did not hire sloppy kids, fat kids, kids who didn’t speak perfect English, kids who looked too “alternative” (i.e., too many tattoos, piercings, or weird hairstyles), or kids who were “emo.” Uncle Nick wanted his Wonder Workers to project an all-American image, and while they couldn’t advertise that (the park was officially an equal opportunity employer), every kid needed to look like someone you could put in a TV commercial.
Xander Cameron was the poster child for the all-American boy. Sitting across from her with his easy grin and that long, lanky body, he was exactly the kind of kid she wanted representing Wonderland.
She asked him all the usual questions and he gave her all the usual answers, and she made sure to smile and nod at everything he said. She liked him. It was
Scottie Pile was Wonderland’s longtime games manager, the man in charge of all the game booths in the midway. There was an excellent chance that the kid did have the right day, and that Scottie didn’t come in today because Oscar had said not to.
“Scottie might not be in.” Bianca motioned him in. “But I can make a quick call to confirm that. Have a seat.”
He entered her office cautiously, appearing a bit overwhelmed by its size and luxuriousness. Uncle Nick’s office down the hall—unoccupied and unchanged since he’d stepped away from the day-to-day—was Spartan in comparison to the feminine plushness Bianca had opted for. Two cream-colored chairs sat across from her desk, and she pointed to one of them.
Her call to Scottie went to voice mail, where his recorded greeting informed Bianca that he was working from home.
“He’s not here today.” She hung up the phone. “He should be back tomorrow, though.”
“Oh,” the kid said, looking confused. He stood up. “I guess I did get the days mixed up. Sorry to bother you. Hopefully I can reschedule—”
“I’m sure you had the right day.” Bianca took a seat across from him. His eyes were either green or hazel—she couldn’t quite tell, and she suspected she’d have to be very close to him to know. The thought of getting close to him made her tingle, and she smiled. “We’ve had a . . . situation here today. The park’s closed. You would have seen a sign if you had come in through the main gates, but you probably parked in the administrative lot as Scottie instructed you to, am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked relieved. “I’m glad it wasn’t my mistake. I’ll give Scottie a call and see if I can book another time.”
“You didn’t hear anything about what happened on the news?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I drove in from Seattle, left the house super early this morning to get here on time. I was listening to the radio the entire way but nothing was said about Wonderland. If I’d heard something I’d have turned around, saved myself the three-hour drive.”
Good . “It would be silly for you to reschedule,” Bianca said. “You’ve driven all this way, and I’d be happy to do your interview. I’ve done one or two in my time.” She reached across the desk with her hand extended. “Bianca Bishop, CEO.”
“Xander Cameron. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” Eyes wide as he shook her hand, he suddenly seemed a little intimidated. “I’ve seen your picture on the website, and I should have recognized you. If you don’t mind my saying, you look a lot younger in person.”
“I don’t mind you saying,” Bianca said. “I don’t mind at all.”
• • •
She already knew she was going to hire him. Why wouldn’t she? He had the Wonderland look—young, clean-cut, enthusiastic. Looking the part was the first and most important step to getting hired at Wonderland; everything else could be taught.
The park did not hire sloppy kids, fat kids, kids who didn’t speak perfect English, kids who looked too “alternative” (i.e., too many tattoos, piercings, or weird hairstyles), or kids who were “emo.” Uncle Nick wanted his Wonder Workers to project an all-American image, and while they couldn’t advertise that (the park was officially an equal opportunity employer), every kid needed to look like someone you could put in a TV commercial.
Xander Cameron was the poster child for the all-American boy. Sitting across from her with his easy grin and that long, lanky body, he was exactly the kind of kid she wanted representing Wonderland.
She asked him all the usual questions and he gave her all the usual answers, and she made sure to smile and nod at everything he said. She liked him. It was
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