The Interview

I stood in front of an institution that could only be described as overwhelming. It was a Victorian-style building that whilst holding a sense of beauty, it also held a promise of something dark and sinister. I glanced at the sign which had inscribed "Holston's Institution for the unwell" in fancy golden lettering for my own reassurement. The entire property could only be described as immaculate. Neatly cut grass and strategically planted flowerbeds. The building whilst holding the historic feel had not a single section that wasn't sparkling clean. I took a final deep breath in to calm my nerves. I had been studying for 8 years and my fate lay within getting this job so I had to calm myself.

Tugging my pencil skirt further down so that my knees were somewhat covered, I pressed the buzzer and was let in. The interior décor was stunning. Marble floors, framed paintings, a chandelier and even a suited man playing the piano in the corner. If I had not seen that sign outside, I would have thought I stepped into a 5-star hotel. I walked towards the reception desk and tried not to wince at the sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor against the quiet background. An elderly but well-polished, smiling woman patiently waited for me.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Holston's Institute for the unwell. My name is Emelia James, how may I help you?"

"Afternoon, I have an appointment with Dr Patel regarding the interviews for the Psychologist vacancy"

Mrs James gave me a knowing, kind look. "Okay, I will inform him you are here. Please take the lift to the third floor"

After receiving my lanyard and further instructions, I waited in the lift as Mozart played in the background which did nothing to ease my nerves. The lift 'dinged' alerting me that I had arrived on the third floor and the doors crawled open.

Immediately, I felt at home. Whereas the lobby had a sophisticated, expensive look to it, the sight that awaited looked purely clinical. White corridors, with trolleys on the side, hand sanitiser and disposable gloves perched on stations every 2 metres or so. My anxiety immediately dissipated. With more confidence, I strode towards the room at the end of the corridor labelled as Dr Patel's as well as his position has the head of all staff. I knocked on the door and was welcomed in.

There in the centre of the room lay the man who would decide my future. He was wearing a suit with the blazer hanging neatly on the back of his chair and his office was neatly organised. The man smiled at me warmly and any leftover tension dropped out of me.

After shaking his hand, I sat down in the chair.

"So, Miss Carlson. How are you?"

I placed on a façade of calmness. "I'm fine, thank you. How are you?"

He looked at me as if he was thoroughly assessing me and grinned.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Now let's cut to the chase. Why here? Why this institution?"

"I've applied to this institution for the vacancy in particular as it has a good reputation and portrays good ethics and morals which match my o-"

"That's very interesting, but it's nothing I haven't heard before. Give me something your real reasons, something different"

I looked at him in surprise and he stared back with calculating eyes, waiting. I sighed. "If you insist. This is a very prestigious institution which would further my career in a way that no other local institution could. I'm also aware of the rumours about the patients but I like a challenge"

I held my breath. There were an awful lot of rumours about this place and none were good especially as all the patients were wealthy or the children of the wealthy who often exhibited spoilt and ludicrous behaviour. He began to laugh at me seeming to have read my mind and smiled handsomely.

"Well said. I like you already. Well, you will hear from us in a week or so but please don't worry too much. Personally, I think you have a good chance especially with the amount of nonsense I have heard in this week from other prospects."

"May I ask who will be doing the deciding?"

"Unfortunately, not me alone. As you are aware we are in an institution for the wealthy so there is a committee but my say does carry a lot of influence especially as I have been here for nearly 20 years"

The shock must have been clear on my face. That must mean he was in his 40's or so but he looked like he was in his late 20's. He laughed once again.

"I know what you're thinking and don't worry. I get that a lot. It's probably genetics and a whole lot of good luck"

He smiled once again, his teeth an unnatural pearly white.

After shaking hands with him and exchanging a few more words, I left for home with a concealed spring in my step ignoring the whisper of unease.