You adjust your shirt and comb through your resume for the twenty-fourth time. Then the secretary looks over her glasses and tells you to go in.

There’re three of them, and they’re nice enough – there’s some banter, a question about your volunteer experience in Ghana. When they get to the meat of the thing, you’re feeling pretty good.

“Mostly,” says the woman, her legs folded to the side, “we’re wondering how you deal with the unexpected.”

You’re about to tell her something about the deadlines at your last job, and then the floor drops out from under your chair.


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