I look to my right, and the person next to me taps his foot uncontrollably with no rhythmic beat. To my left, the man keeps sliding his sweaty, glistening hands down his slacks. Then, right in front of me, pen clicking, eyes staring blankly at a piece of paper a woman sat. Me, not a thing about me looks worried. I can't remember the last time and interview made me nervous and I know exactly what to expect from them.
Sitting on the rough, sandpaper like couch, I began passing the time by admiring the oddly painted pictures along the mustard colored walls. The room in all looked very dull.
In a few minutes, the lady would say my name, and I pretty much know I am going to get the job. I have all of the qualifications. I graduated in the top of my class and I have done so many things for the community. I worked for this company as an intern for a few years as well, but now that I graduated from college, I figured the time has come to apply for a real job here. Everyone in this firm adores me and I know everyone's first name.
Sitting in the room after a few minutes, I finally heard my name. Looking down on the men to my right and left, they began to tilt their heads up, just barely. Their eyes did the rest of the work as they glared at me. They could see the confidence I had, and worry covered their faces.
I, calm and collected, walk in and give the interviewer the firmest handshake I’ve ever given. Then I make eye contact, and smile. In response, he smiles back, and right there, the confidence I had once possessed, vanished. In his teeth, hung a thin long piece of spinach, so noticeable that a ninety year old could see it vividly without their glasses. It was like a needle in a haystack except, the spinach is the hay, and his teeth resembled the one needle. It brought as much attention to my mind as a baby crying during a mass.
My hands began to shake and become extremely clammy. When I looked down to find my seat, I caught a glimpse of them. Sweat had started to dribble down them. In a matter of seconds they already looked as though I had just been soaking in a pool for hours. Completely prune.
Now sitting in the chair, my eyes traveled back to the interviewers. The interviewer, a manager at the firm, is someone who I was not well acquainted with. This man, I've seen him around the firm, but he never made an effort to talk to me.
The interviewer's office looked nothing like the waiting room. Plants filled the room with life and the windows actually let in some light. The office was an area that I would normally have a ton of confidence in, but I could not find an ounce of confidence in my brain.

He still had a little smirk on his face and just through the crack in his lips, I could still see the piece of spinach.
"It's nice to finally meet you. I have heard a lot of good things about you," said the interviewer. Every word he said after that just dwindled out of my mind because the only thing I could think of was whether or not I should tell him about the thing in his teeth.
Clueless and confused, all that came out of my mouth was a simple, "yes."
Right there, I realized that I put myself into a lot of trouble. That's when I began tapping the armrest with my fingers. One by one, I sent the signal from the brain. Thumb first, then pointer finger, then middle finger, the ring finger, the pinky. Then back again all in a fluid motion.
Eye contact, the only thing I reminded myself to do before the interview. In a matter of seconds, the command of eye contact disappeared from my brain. I concentrated more on making sure my fingers touched one by one in a smooth wave like pattern, than I did remembering where I even was at the moment.
"Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
Earlier, while preparing, I had this question completely planned out. I would tell him about my experiences from the past, and all about me as a man, but those words had vanished from my brain as well. Still, the only thing on my mind was that green mind distracter, and the question, "How many taps of this armrest will it take for me to begin making calluses on my fingers?"
“What would he do if I told him that he has something in his mouth? Will he get mad? Will the person after me tell him about it? What would he think of me? I won’t get the job. I should tell him. No I shouldn’t.” Thoughts just scrambled through my mind.
Inside this room full of life, I could see green. Green plants were carefully placed around the entire room. Pictures of trees hung from the walls and the worst green thing of all was that little thin strip of a job destroyer.
If I told him about the spinach, he would definitely not give me the job. Every time I look at it, I see that large first paycheck slipping out of my hands, and into the hands of someone else.
“Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?” he said again, this time with a hint of impatience in his voice.
“Oh yeah, um, well, I just graduated from the University of Illinois. Um, I enjoy being around people. Um, um.” I can’t remember what I’m supposed to say. “I’m 22 years old.” Why did I say that? He knows how old I am.
I just began to jabber on. I said, “um” before every single sentence. “What am I doing?” I thought to myself.


On accident, I put my finger in my mouth and picked at one of my teeth. "Did he see that? I sure hope not."
Rather quickly, I began to see my chances of receiving the job narrow to zero. So, to fight back, I began thinking of what it would be like if I were the interviewer. "If I had something in my teeth, I would want to know about it.”
All of a sudden, I saw his top lip form a little hump, and that's when I knew he knew. His tongue was right there, ready to help suck that green leafy spinach out of that little crack. Alright, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m going to tell him... No I can’t. It’s already been too long. He probably started sucking at his teeth because my last answer disgusted him that much.
“He’s going to wonder why I didn’t tell him sooner. How does something so simple, completely change how I am as a person. What was I thinking?” I thought to myself.
“Blah, blah, blah?” That’s all I could hear coming from his mouth. Subconsciously I would respond with whatever words came to my mind first. Nothing I said really made sense and nothing I said made me stand out from other people. The job was for sure no longer going to be mine.
He asked a few more questions, and I don’t even know the length of time of the interview. I don’t remember what we talked about, and I don't understand the mere fact as to why someone interviewed me.
“Thank you for your time,” he said.
“Thank you, have a good day.” Those words sounded like I’ve said them a million time, because I have. They didn’t sound sincere.
Before I left, I gave him a half hearted handshake. One last time, my eyes walked up his arm. They climbed over his shoulder, and shimmied up his neck. His smile, still pasted on his face, the distracter was still there.
I began to turn around, and then he stopped me and said to me, “Oh and by the way, before you go back out there, you have something in your teeth.”