The large and important man in front of me hunched over his desk, his countenance dripping with copious amounts of sweat and avarice while mine was flooding with fear.
“So Mr. Martin,” he began, a hint of apprehension in his voice, “one final question. Why do you believe you would fit the description for this job?”

I’ve always hated this question. My mouth always seems to go dry when I have to answer it. Then I pause for a second to think on it, which makes the interviewer think I’m unprepared, which sends me into a spiraling state of consternation.

“Well,” I began, managing a smile to mask my inner anguish, “I’m responsible…”

That’s a total lie. Just ask every wretched dog, goldfish, parakeet, ant farm, or class hamster that has ever entered into my care.

“I have good people skills…”

Another lie. I have people skills like my previous pets had edible food.

“I can be a good leader…”

Yeah, a nominal one perhaps.

“And I’m not afraid to be completely honest with others.”

My presence at this interview disproves that theory alone.

The possible would-be boss leaned back in his chair. He nodded his head and scribbled something on his clipboard. I wish he would say something. The quiet yet pestilential atmosphere of his office was beginning to suffocate me.

“Well, Mr. Martin,” he said finally, “I believe we’re just about done here. We will inform you in about a week if you get the job.”

“Thank you, sir.” I said. I got up from my chair to shake his hand. From this close up I could sense the stench of hard work and cheap cologne off of his skin. I winced for a moment, but shot him a reassuring smile to make up for it. I’m not entirely sure what he would think of that, but it felt like something I should do.

And with that I walked out of his office. Once the door shut behind me I sighed in absolute relief.

Yep, I think it’s in the bag.