Glen shook his head slowly, trying not to do a Snoopy dance in his chair or look otherwise too eager. Personally, he couldn’t imagine why anyone with faculties functioning properly would want the job, but if the guy in front of him turned out to be the real deal, he just might be the recipient of the first kiss Glen ever bestowed on another guy.
He didn’t really care how Farthing knew about the opening. He just hoped he was looking at a real replacement candidate for somebody who couldn’t really be replaced.
“Why do you want it? And what makes you think you have what it takes?”
The two questions that went straight to the heart of the matter. Sol was proud enough of Glen to bust the buttons on his shirt.
“I could give you a bunch of baloney answers, but I’m going to tell the truth even though it’s going to make me sound like an ass.”
“Okay.” Glen looked intrigued.
“I like to run things and I’m good at it.”
Glen stared for a minute and then started laughing. “You want to know what’s funny about that answer?”
“What?”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing the former Sovereign would have said. And there was never one better at the job. Ever.” Sol would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he enjoyed the flattery. It was nice to know that he’d left life with people thinking good things about him. “And what makes you think you can do the job?”
“Give me a try. No harm. No foul. Let’s negotiate a probation period.”
“Well, it’s not quite that easy to get hold of command around here, but I accept your application. Gladly. And will get the two other people who will be most instrumental in making a decision to conduct your vetting.”
“Could I ask who the other two are?”
“I doubt you know them. The head of science, research, and development, Dr. Thelonius Monq and knight emeritus, Sir Engel Storm.”
“You’re right. I don’t know them, but I have heard of both of them. I’ll look forward to the meeting or meetings, whatever the process may be.”
They chatted about various issues of running Jefferson Unit for a while longer until Bo stuck his head in to say breakfast was served. They moved the conversation into the conference room where Glen almost got the feeling that he was the one being interviewed.
The questions that Farthing asked about J.U. were so germane, so pertinent, that with each passing minute Glen was more and more certain that the perfect guy had just come walking through the door asking for the fu...
“If this is an example of the food around here, then I’m in.”
“You know, Farthing…”
“Call me Rev.”
“Sure. I’ll tell you what. There’s an outside chance I might even get the two decision makers in here to talk to you right away. If it’s up to me, we’ll get your tryout.” Sol smiled. “You got a resume?” Sol’s face dropped and Glen started laughing. “Gotcha. Just kidding. Not a resume kind of job. Nothing could prepare somebody. Believe me. Wait here.”
Glen left and, while he was gone, breakfast dishes were taken away and replaced with a fresh coffee service. Since there was nothing else to do, he poured himself a cup of black and settled into a chair. Waiting wasn’t his favorite thing whether it was lying on a grassy knoll or sitting at a conference table. He’d already heard enough to know that time was being wasted, but he understood the need to convince his own people that he should be in charge. It was just weird.
Twenty minutes later Glen opened the door and held it as Monq and Storm entered. It was harder than Sol could have imagined pretending that he didn’t know them. He’d shared considerable history with both those men, but had to act like they were strangers.
They sat down at the table and conducted the interview informally, more like a casual conversation than a tribunal. Sol didn’t have a resume on paper, but he was able to recite his qualifications on demand and make a case for why he should be given a try.
It was a tricky mental exercise, using key points that could only spring from his personal working knowledge of the position without revealing that he actually had personal working knowledge of the position.
He noted the glances that passed between the three as punctuation to some of his answers. After a couple of hours, Storm said, “Will you excuse us for a few minutes, please?”
“Of course,” he said.
In less than two minutes, the door reopened and they filed back in. He guessed from the grin on Glen’s face that he was going to be sitting in his old chair real soon.
“You’re in,” Glen said, looking a little elated and a lot relieved. “Ninety day probationary position. If all goes well, there will be a review by higher ups at the end of that time and then it will be made permanent. Don’t screw up because we,” he motioned between himself and Storm, “don’t want the job back.”
Storm stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Jefferson Unit, Temporary Sovereign Farthing.” Sol took his hand and Storm used his other hand to slap Sol on the shoulder.