Mr. Hollingsworth.

Ch. 5 The Work Place Whistle Blower.

Whistle blowers are basically like tattle tales, who spill dirty secrets to the government. That's what I felt like as I sat across from Mr. Hollingsworth, he looked playful but his eyes said, tell-me-everything-or-you're-fired. Or maybe that's just how I felt around him. "So Ms. Jones -" I accidentally cut him off, "Are you paying for all of this sir? I don't have much money, but I can give you something." By something I mean a dime. Literally the only spare change I have in my pockets is a dime. Then I realized I cut him off, "Oh sorry for cutting you off Mr. Hollingsworth, that's really rude of me." Absently to apologize I cut him off. A-fucking-gain. Before I could apologize for apologizing, he held up a finger, silencing me. But his eyes twinkled with obvious amusement, and I knew I must be flushed with embarrassment.

"What do you have to offer Ms. Jones?" He asked, leaning forward on his intertwined fingers. I wanted to lean back, but I had a feeling the chair would tilt and I'd fall and make a fool of myself. "A dime." I answered flatly, I saw his expression turn to one of surprise, but it shifted back to easy confidence. "A dime?" He asked, I nodded. "Yes sir. I only have a dime, do you want it, it isn't much, but it's all I have." Literally, until my next paycheck I was going to be living off of a dime. A fucking dime. Still, I had my pride, and I wanted to help pay for the meal, it took every fiber of my being to cry at just suggesting that I give up my only form of money, but I kept my pleasant expression. He shook his head, "No Ms. Jones, I'm not taking a dime from you. Even if you had more." He sounded suspicious. Instantly I felt the urge to defend myself. I hated it when people thought I was lying when I wasn't.

So I took out my wallet, and tossed it onto the table. "You're doubting me, see for yourself." He looked at me in surprise, but slowly took my battered wallet I'd had since I was ten. I'm twenty three now. It was plain black leather, wrapped in so much duct tape you couldn't even see it's true color anymore. His fingers hesitantly opened every flap, and then he flipped it upside down, and a single dime fell out, and clattered onto the table. He looked up in surprise, someone as rich as him probably didn't even come close to people like me. Poor.

    Quickly he put it back into my wallet, and handed it to me. "Sorry for doubting you." His apology was genuine. "Sorry for making you feel like a jerk. You probably get people lying to you about their monetary stance everyday." I apologized back, he grinned a little, "No need to apologize Ms. Jones. I'm the one in the wrong here, so why don't we get started with the interview." For once I was glad about, it'd get my mind off having to go home. "Sure thing Mr. Hollingsworth."

    The first thing he asked was what I was expecting, "Do you get paid overtime?" The mental image of Ms. Joy's blood red lips flapping open and shut appeared in my mind, and I closed my eyes to shake away my fear. I was not going to lie to the CEO. When I opened then, he looked surprised. "No sir, I don't." I answered, he cocked his head to the side quizically, and the moment momentarily made me loose all comprehension of what being a functioning human being was. I managed to get focused just in time. "Why do you stay past your shift to work?" He asked, "Because my manager gives me a lot of work in a short amount of time sir." I answered, that seemed to irk him, "Why does she put a lot of work on you?" His brown eyes were growing dark with anger, I shrugged as our food arrived, "I genuinely don't know sir. She just does." She singles me out, screams at me everyday, keeps me after work to tell me how much of a screw up I am, makes me go to work early to tell me how much of a screw up I am, tells me how much of a screw up I am during the work day. It sucked but beggars can't be choosers, and I was worse than a beggar on. On the feudal pyramid, I'd be a serf.

    He let out a little sigh, and I ate a little bit of my parfait. "Why aren't you eating your actual food?" His tone was clippy, but I knew it wasn't aimed at me. "I'm saving it for later." I answered, that's why I ordered something that can be kept in my dingy fridge back at the apartment. "You can't pay for dinner?" He asked slowly, I shook my head. "I only have a dime sir, I can't pay for anything right now." I answered, surprised by my honesty, but he didn't look at me with judging eyes. He just sighed, and looked out of the window. Not exactly good company. Before I could say anything stupid, he looked back at me with those fiercely vengeful eyes, "Do you complete all of your assignments on time?" He asked, I nodded. "Of course I do." I responded, he closed his eyes, and it looked like he was three seconds away from flipping the table and storing out of the cafe. "Why didn't you get a raise by now?" He sounded frustrated. Once again I shrugged, "I don't know sir. That's out of my hands." I answered, "Why didn't you ever talk to me about this before instead of waiting until you ran into me to tell me all of this?" His anger was directed at me, and surprisingly that pissed me off. I didn't do anything!