Amber had been pleasantly surprised the next week to get a call from one of the nonprofits to which she’d sent her resume, asking her to come in for an interview. It wasn’t her top pick of where she wanted to work, but it was the first place to offer her an interview. She was still hoping to hear back from the Chicago Communities Program, but she certainly couldn’t turn down a job based on hope.
She dressed carefully in her only suit, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail and using minimal makeup. She’d prepared answers to some potential interview questions, and she’d done her research on the organization.
She looked out the window to see heavy snow falling. Damn. She should have left early in case traffic was slow. She grabbed her coat, wrapped a big scarf around her neck, and picked up her gloves, purse, and a leather folder that had extra copies of her resume and a notepad. Okay.
Out on the street, she impatiently brushed heavy wet snow off the windshield and back window. Dammit, now she was really running behind. When she got going, yes, the streets were slushy, and yes, traffic was moving slowly. Why did everyone forget how to drive when a little snow fell? Nerves amplified her impatience.
She pulled to a slow stop behind another vehicle at a red light. She flipped down her visor to check her makeup and—wham! She jolted forward, stunned, then her head snapped back as her front end impacted the car in front of her with another bang.
She sat there dazed for a moment, looking at her crumpled hood. What the…?
She’d been rear-ended. And pushed into the car in front of her.
She lifted a hand to her forehead, blinking. Her seatbelt had locked and no air bag had gone off, but still…her poor car was smashed front and back.
Someone knocked on her window. She turned and squinted. “Are you okay?” the man called.
She unfastened her seatbelt with shaky fingers and opened the door. “Yeah.” The door stuck a little and she had to lean into it with her shoulder. “I’m okay. I think. What happened?”
“The roads are slippery as hell. I slid into you. Sorry.”
Another man joined them, the driver of the car in front. “Everyone okay?”
They inspected the damage, then the guy from the front vehicle said, “We should move our cars out of traffic and exchange particulars.”
Only Amber’s car wouldn’t start. She sat there with one hand on the wheel and the other on her key, cursing.
“Won’t go?” one man asked. “Here, we’ll give you a push. Put it in neutral.”
She did so and helped steer with the stiff, powerless wheel as they pushed her to the side of the street.
“I have a job interview,” she said lamely. “I’m already running late. We need to be quick.”
“Sure.” They exchanged info and the two men disappeared.
Fuck! What was she going to do? She looked around for a taxi. Traffic was congested and slow, but there were no taxis to be seen. She had no idea where the closest bus route was or how to get where she needed to go.
Her cellphone buzzed. Frowning, she yanked it out of her purse. The display showed it was Duncan.
She sighed.
Good luck at your interview! Sorry this is late, you’re probably on your way already.
Her bottom lip quivered a bit. She could not feel sorry for herself. She caught her lip between her teeth and tapped back a message: Thanks.
Then she sighed. She still felt a little shaken up and there was no way she was going to get to her interview on time. She sat in her car and called the Human Resources department to tell them what had happened. “Is there a possibility of rescheduling?” she asked, knowing it was inexcusable to miss a job interview. Way to make a good first impression.
“We’ve got interviews fully booked this week,” the HR adviser said. “We may be in touch with you toward the end of the week though, if we haven’t filled the position.”
Crap. She wanted to throw her cellphone at the windshield. Crap, crap, crap.
She let her head fall back against the headrest and briefly closed her eyes. More curse words ran through her mind.
Then she found the insurance company’s number and called them. They said they’d arrange for a tow truck to come get it. She waited for it and watched it haul her poor bashed-up old Honda away. She blew out a breath. Now she had to find a way home.
Her smartphone helped her find a bus route and she walked the three blocks through blowing snow, sadly wearing the high-heeled boots she’d put on for her interview. Her feet were frozen and aching by the time she boarded a bus and didn’t warm up much before she got home.
She headed straight to the bathroom and started running a bath. She took off her suit, and though she wanted to just drop it on the floor, she carefully hung it and the silky blouse in her closet, ready for her next interview. Whenever that would be.