Mind Where You Are Going
Imogen kept looking at her watch as she was making her way to a job interview. She knew she was going to be late, so there was only one thing for it - she started running. As she got nearer the factory she went even quicker. When she had to cross to get to the other side of the road she didn't even bother to see if any traffic was coming. She just shot straight across the road. Then, before she could reach the other side, This suddenly stopped, braking hard to avoid hitting her. The driver was furious.
‘Mind where you are going!' he shouted to her.
‘All right, keep your bloody hair on,' she shouted back.
Approaching the factory, she noticed that she had actually got a few minutes to spare, so she she calmed herself down, sat on a wall and lit a cigarette. She wished she hadn't of bothered when she saw who was making his way through the factory entrance - the man who nearly hit her in his car. She just hoped that he wasn't the one who was doing the interviews. She knew she wouldn't get the job if he was.
Imogen finished her cigarette, then made her way through the factory entrance. She was dreading it. She could feel the palms of her hands getting sweaty. She was thinking of turning back round and making her way home, but no, she needed a job. And anyway, what was the worst that could happen? She gave her name to the girl on the desk, took a seat, then waited. She seemed to wait ages before she was called in. To her relief, it was a woman who seemed to be doing the interviews. Imogen felt so relieved.
‘Are there any questions that you want to ask me?' the lady said to Imogen after interviewing her.
‘No, thank you,' Imogen replied. ‘I think you have covered everything.'
‘Right, then,' the lady said, as Imogen got up to make her way out of the room. ‘Unfortunately, it's not up to me if you get the job. It's up to Mr Higgins, the manager of the department you'll hopefully be working in. But I'll certainly be putting in a good word. You are the best candidate by far.'
Imogen couldn't wait to get home. She felt so happy. She'd been out of work for months. She was going to get her mate Kerry to come out with her that night to celebrate her new job. She knew it was just a formality.
‘Hey, Kerry, guess what?' she said to her on the phone when she got in.
‘Don't tell me you've got that job?'
‘As good as. Fancy coming out and celebrating with us tonight?'
‘Try and stop me.'
‘Right, Kerry. I'll call for you about six. See you then.'
Imogen put the phone down, had her tea, then went to get herself ready. She was so excited.
The two girls turned up at the pub. They ran into a couple of friends from their school days, who were already inside the pub. They were all having a right old time, until this man walked in, with what looked liked his wife. Imogen started to give him a tough time. She just wouldn't stop having a go at him.
‘Why are you picking on that man, Imogen? What's he ever done to you?' Kerry asked her.
‘That miserable excuse for a human being nearly ran me over today. He actually works for the factory where I got the job. Fortunately, it won't be his department I'll be working in, so why should I worry!'
Boy, did Imogen get it wrong? She entered the factory, next morning, feeling the worst for wear, to be introduced to the head of the department she'd be working in. Did she have a surprise?. He was only the person who almost ran her over as she was on her way to the interveiw. She couldn't get out of the factory quick enough. She knew he wasn't going to give her the job; not after the way she had treated him in the pub the night before.
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