“Oh, before I forget,” the male interviewer, Robert, said, “do you have any issues with nudity?”
Emma blinked. “Well, I—”
“Because part of this job will be editing the photos in the galleries,” he said.
“The before and after galleries,” the female interviewer, Tory, said. “That’s the first thing people look at.”
Emma nodded, wondering how long ago the office had been inhabited by smokers. It had been the first thing she noticed. “Right, of course.”
“There’s nothing pornographic,” Robert assured. “The heads are cut off—”
“Well, of course they’re not pornographic,” Emma said, “these are sites for plastic surgeons—”
“But some of the photos are pretty graphic,” Tory said, her eyes staring at some point on the table.
“Labiaplasty, and the like,” Robert said, holding Emma’s gaze.
“Uh huh,” Emma nodded, wondering, if she took this job, what she would tell people when asked how her day went. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. She wasn’t a prude, but the smelly building, and that account manager she’d met when Robert had shown her around whose smile gave her the willies, and the young men in dark, windowless rooms developing these web sites were all off putting.
As Robert escorted her to the front desk after the interview, she shook his hand, looked him in the eye and said, “Thanks for the time. Sounds like a great opportunity.” In her mind, she thought, “For someone else.”
She walked out into the hot afternoon sun and breathed in the fresh air.