Josh wouldn't. He wouldn't even change his shirt. He'd burst through the doors, out of breath, and demand a glass of water before the interview began.
I asked the receptionist if she thought it would be much of a wait. She hasn't stopped eyeing me yet.
It should go well. I have questions ready and a handshake a number of people have called 'good'. I can't tell.
Three men in dark suits and light ties walk past, all with briefcases, all black. They look like the people to get something done.
I want this job. I'd almost forgotten that part.