“Ah . . . Rebecca?”
“Yes?” she responded, using her extremely polite, extremely ingrained, beauty pageant voice.
“Hey, Tom Masters here.”
Her feet came crashing down to the wood floor, her pulse suddenly pounding. Tom Masters was an old friend of Bud’s, a state politician or something—why would he be calling her? “Hi, Tom! How are you?”
“Doing great! And you?” Before Rebecca could answer, he added contritely, “Hey, sorry to hear about the split. You and Bud were one of mine and Glenda’s favorite couples.”
“Oh . . . thanks.” Seeing as she and Bud had seen Tom and his wife about once every other year, Rebecca thought that a little gratuitous.
“So I heard you were living down here now. That’s great!”
“It is?”
“Sure! Didn’t Bud tell you I’m running for lieutenant governor this fall?”
Oh, for Chrissakes! This was about a campaign contribution? “Bud and I aren’t exactly chums, Tom.”
“Oh . . . right,” he said as if that were somehow news. “Well, I’ve been a state senator for a couple of terms now, and I’m making a bid for lieutenant governor. When Glenda and I heard you were down here in Austin, she said, ‘Hey, Rebecca would be a great addition to your team!’”
Interesting—her relationship with Glenda consisted of complimenting each other’s shoes. “What team is that?”
“My team. You know, my campaign team!”
Whoa . . . Rebecca sat up. “An addition to your campaign team?” she repeated dumbly.
“You bet. I’ve got some of the brightest folks around to help me get elected. But I just thought if you had some extra time, maybe you could volunteer. Here’s the deal, Rebecca. You have a lot of important friends in this state. You know their likes, their dislikes, and I need people like you to help get the word out about my candidacy and help me develop new strategies that speak to all Texans. I need bright, clever people who can help me form an agenda that is relevant to all the many different constituents of Texas.”
Rebecca was standing now—forget that she hadn’t a clue what Tom did as a state senator—this was too good to be true! Was it possible that an opportunity like this could just fall into her lap from nowhere? After weeks and weeks of searching for a job? It sounded perfect, something she really could do. Wow, maybe Rachel was right—maybe her karma was kicking in! This was something she could do, something where maybe she could learn stuff about computers, and maybe even meet some people who could give her . . . dare she think it? A paying job!
“You want me to help you?” she asked, just to make sure she wasn’t misconstruing things.
“I sure do!” Tom said enthusiastically. “You’d be a perfect asset—I mean, you’ve always been so clever and perceptive.”
Had she really? Gee, she hadn’t even known it!
“Yep, I’d be thrilled if you could see your way to spending a few hours a week with me. That’s all. Just a few hours where I can pick your brain.”
“I don’t even know what to say, Tom,” she said, feeling herself blush with his praise. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Oh, sure you have! It’s not any different than throwing one of those big parties you’re famous for. Listen, why don’t you drop by our campaign staff meeting tomorrow afternoon? My folks are getting together to talk about next steps.”
“I am so flattered,” she gushed, already pulling her hair out of its scrunchie. “I’d love to give you a hand.”
“Then you can make it?”
“Ah . . . let me look at my schedule,” she said, and held the phone away from her ear as she did a silent little Snoopy happy dance, then stopped, caught her breath, and said in her best, I’ve-got-a-life-too voice, “I think I can rearrange a couple of things. What time did you say?”
“Around four, my office at the capitol. And thanks, Rebecca. Your presence will definitely make this the A-team.”
“Oh no, thank you, Tom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She clicked off the phone, threw her arms wide and grinned up at the ceiling. “Excellent!” she exclaimed, and abruptly pivoted about, her mind already racing ahead to the perfect outfit. As she marched from her office, she joined SpongeBob SquarePants in chanting, “I’m rea-dy, I’m rea-dy, I’m rea-dy!”
Chapter Five
It is important to always look professional. Clothes should be clean and pressed, shoes polished, and hair neatly combed. In the words of Coleman Cox, “keeping your clothes well pressed will keep you from looking hard-pressed!”
THE UNQUALIFIED APPLICANT