Chapter Twelve Q: The Interview Before the Interview
Emily arrived at the housing cooperative twenty minutes early and found a crowd outside the reception desk.
A delivery van had blocked the accessible entrance, and a man using a wheelchair was waiting in the rain.
The receptionist was speaking into a telephone while two volunteers argued about where to move the boxes.
Emily recognized Edwin Marsh beside the door.
He had come to ask about his doctor’s appointment and was trying to keep his papers dry beneath his jacket.
“I thought you were coming tomorrow,” Emily said.
“The transport office changed my pickup time,” Edwin replied.
“I came to make sure somebody knows.”
Emily looked at the blocked entrance.
“Has anyone asked the driver to move?”
“He’s delivering bedding,” Edwin answered.
“He says he’ll only be five minutes.”
The driver emerged carrying another stack of blankets.
Emily approached him without raising her voice.
“There’s someone waiting to use the ramp,” she said.
“Can you move the van before unloading the rest?”
The driver looked at the boxes inside his vehicle.
“I’ll lose my place,” he said.
“You can park beside the loading bay,” Emily answered.
“The door is open there.”
He glanced toward the loading bay and saw that she was right.
“Nobody told me that,” he muttered.
“I’ll move it.”
The van pulled away, and Edwin rolled toward the entrance.
He stopped beside Emily.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“You were getting wet,” she replied.
“So were you,” Edwin pointed out.
Emily looked down at her damp sleeves and laughed.
“I suppose I was.”
Inside, the receptionist apologized for the confusion and directed Emily toward the interview waiting room.
A woman with silver glasses stood in the hallway holding a clipboard.
“Are you Emily Carter?” she asked.
“Yes,” Emily answered.
“I’m Helen Marr,” the woman said.
“I saw what happened outside.”
Emily felt a sudden wave of embarrassment.
“I wasn’t trying to interfere,” she said.
“I know,” Helen replied.
“But I would like to ask you about it during the interview.”
Emily followed her into a room with a round table and a window overlooking the parking lot.
She sat down and opened her notebook.
Helen placed the clipboard beside her chair.
“Why did you speak to the driver instead of asking reception to handle it?” she asked.
Emily considered the question.
“Because reception was already busy, and the driver was standing right there,” she said.
“It seemed faster to ask him directly.”
“What if he had refused?”
“I would have asked the receptionist to call his supervisor,” Emily answered.
“I wouldn’t have moved his vehicle or tried to force him.”
Helen nodded and made a note.
“What if the man waiting outside had not wanted your help?”
Emily thought of Edwin’s sharp corrections at the library.
“Then I should have asked before stepping in,” she admitted.
“I knew him, but that doesn’t mean I should decide everything for him.”
Helen set down her pen.
“Good,” she said.
“We can teach procedures, but people need to recognize when they are making decisions on someone else’s behalf.”
Emily looked toward the parking lot, where the delivery driver was now unloading bedding through the correct entrance.
She realized the interview had begun before she entered the room.
