"Yes."
"Step five, is the hiring process. From this point forward, your fieldwork starts. The hiring has to happen as naturally as possible. The new position has to be created discreetly, and the human resources department has to select your résumé out of a pile of other résumés. They have to call you for an interview on their own, without pressure from the client."
"What if it doesn't work? What if they simply don't see my résumé?"
"Well, they will. It will be the best résumé ever written, with the exact experience they'll be looking for. Worst-case scenario, the client can push a bit, but it would be better if he or she doesn't have to. From there forward, you will pass two or three interviews: one with human resources, maybe another one that is more technical, and the final one with the client. You will have to pass those interviews, so you will be prepared. The interviews are the least of my concerns; I have seen you in action."
"Thank you." Alex smiled gratefully.
"Welcome, and well deserved. Step six, starts with your first day at work. Getting to know the company, the people, the atmosphere, looking at everything, while keeping in mind the client's concern, and asking yourself what caused it. Not disregarding any possibility; not discarding any theory, no matter how far-fetched; looking for causes and their effects; and analyzing what you see, hear, and learn. Step seven, is the diagnosis. You found it; you first bring it to the team at The Agency. You cannot discuss this with the client without running it by us beforehand. The clients will be instructed not to ask you, but some of them will still try. Once you have a diagnosis, we all sit together and brainstorm about the best way to fix the problem. Sometimes the fix is an obvious, simple answer. Other times, it's more complicated, or we have to get the authorities involved. Once we have a solution, we'll all present it together to the client. Finally, step eight is the fix. You apply the fix, or assist the client in applying it, and then leave the company. Case closed."
"Wow," Alex said, "this is amazing. This is impressive. It's a whole new world, I had no idea existed."
"Most people don't. Do you still want to be a part of it?" Tom asked. He sat up, shut down the projector and the laptop, getting ready to leave the room.
Alex answered promptly and enthusiastically. "Absolutely."
"Great. Then let's discuss this some more over dinner, at my place, 7:00PM tonight." He handed her a Post-it note with an address in Laguna Beach.
"Yeah. Sure, I'll be there," Alex said. Not many people would have sensed the hesitation in her voice, but Tom did.
…20
"What the hell should I wear?"
Pacing the room in her underwear and stepping on scattered clothes discarded on the floor, Alex had trouble reaching a decision. She also had trouble keeping calm. She stopped her pacing in front of the mirrored closet door and admired herself, slowly turning around. The dark lingerie, making her sun-tanned skin appear luminescent, complemented her tall, slim figure. Her lean muscles, maintained by daily exercise and swimming, were not showing any visible sign of her sedentary activity in front of a computer screen. She was working hard to compensate for all the hours spent sitting at her desk, and she would have normally felt quite happy with the image reflected in the mirror, but today that image was causing her unrest. She went back to the closet, ready to attempt another search for the perfect outfit.
"Too sexy, too short, too colorful, too cheap." One by one, she pushed the disqualified clothes hangers to the left, focusing on the next in line, with her patience running short, and her voice rising in anger. Damn it to hell. And back. A hanger supporting the fine shoulder straps of a generously revealing black dress hit the floor. She sat down on the bed, head in her hands, thinking.
The dinner invitation at her boss's home had thrown her off, making her not sure what to believe. Was this a test? If so, what kind of test? She was afraid Tom would make a pass at her, to test her most likely, because he did not seem to be the type to romance his employees. He was too courteous, too reserved and professional at all times. Still, an invitation to his home could prove to be a tricky situation to handle.
She wanted her attire to make a statement of self-assurance, of casual confidence, but also to discourage any possible advances. She did not want to wear her designer business suit because she feared it would seem like she was desperate to make a good impression. She was desperate to make a good impression, but she was trying to hide it just as desperately.
Furthermore, the dinner invitation sounded casual, not formal, and she wanted her attire to demonstrate that she was able to dress appropriately for such an occasion. Well, she did have another reason for not wearing her formal business suit. That was because she only had that one, and she had worn it at her job interview. Tom would obviously remember. Damn.
With a resigned sigh, she picked out a pair of worn-out jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a charcoal turtleneck sweater. The sweater was at least three sizes too large for her. Too damn hot for sweaters, but I will be able to endure. She looked up at the clock on the wall. I will also be late. She picked up her keys and wallet, and stormed out the door. Twenty seconds later, she stormed back in, picked up the bottle of wine she had bought for Tom, and ran out again, slamming the door behind her.
…21
She drove up Cliff Drive looking at the house numbers. Tom lived in a huge ranch-style home, with large windows and a neatly landscaped lawn, overlooking the breathtaking Pacific coast. She pulled into the driveway, in front of the double-car garage. Keeping her foot on the brake pedal, she quickly tied up her hair in a ponytail. She was postponing the moment she had to turn off the engine off, which would cut the lifesaving flow of freezing conditioned air.
She tried to see if Tom was watching from behind the white tulle curtains hanging at the immense windows overseeing the driveway. It was impossible to see anything behind those curtains. Damn. Of course, he likes his privacy…
She got out of her car and walked straight to the door. She rang the bell and heard Tom's footsteps approaching. He opened the door with a welcoming smile and showed her in. "Welcome, come on in. Make yourself comfortable, take your pick."
His living room was huge, tastefully decorated with sparse furniture. There was a lot of open space, gleaming hardwood floors, with area rugs in harmonious, warm colors. In the center of the room were a sectional leather sofa, designed in a classy, contemporary style; a coffee table; and three matching armchairs; arranged in a quarter-circle in front of the sofa. A Siamese cat, sleeping serenely, undisturbed by her arrival, occupied one of the armchairs.
She started toward an armchair, relieved he did not invite her to sit on the sofa. She stopped midway, then turned and offered him the gift-wrapped bottle of wine.