Daddy — Zeus — can be a little controlling. It’s not enough that we get jobs, he wants to dictate what we do. I mean, PR is perfect for Moxie, but he just handed that position to her.
He tried to do that to me, too. But the whole point of working alongside the mortals is to better understand your pain — what you’re are truly struggling with — so we can provide better solutions. I’m not going to understand that if I don’t have to go through what you do.
That’s why I turned down the CEO position Zeus offered me at Athens Pizza and decided to interview for a job instead.
Because we’re not here indefinitely, I went to a temporary agency. The woman at the front looked at me as if I had three heads. “I’m here for a job,” I explained in English. Then, I repeated it in Greek and a few other languages because she kept looking at me queerly.
Finally, she spoke, pointing at my owl Mr. Hoots. “Is that a support animal?”
I chuckled as Mr. Hoots swiveled his head to look at her. “This is a sign of my wisdom,” I said, raising my arm up so she could see him better. “Say ‘hello’ Mr. Hoots.”
“Who,” Mr. Hoots said.
Every time he does that I just light up. He’s so cute! I smiled at the woman, but she’d gone gorgon-faced. Clearly not an avian-lover.
She rolled her eyes and handed me a clipboard with some papers attached. “Here, fill these out.”
I leaned my spear against the front desk so I could pick up a pen. The woman cleared her throat. I looked up. She pointed at the chairs behind me.
“Of course. I’ll do this over there.”
“And put that stick thing by the umbrellas, you can’t take that back with you.”
“It’s a spear,” I told her. “But if you don’t need my protection, I’m happy to put it away.” Mortals … so puny and cocky, am I right?
I fastened the pen on the clipboard, put my spear in the umbrella bin, and sat down on one of the chairs. I couldn’t see well, so I took my helmet off and rested it on the chair beside me. Mr. Hoots jumped on top of it and started to preen. God, I love him. He hooted back at me his approval. I needed the encouragement.
The typing test didn’t go well. I tried to explain that I’m one hundred and fifty words per minute with a scroll, but evidently no one’s into scrolls or papyrus anymore. I had to prove my ability on a keyboard. They gave me a letter and asked me to type it into the computer. English may be my second language, but even I could see the keyboard was broken. Anyhoo, in case anyone out there is hiring: I type a mean five words a minute with seventy percent accuracy. And that’s just using two fingers!
After the test, they took me in for an interview. “You don’t seem to have any work history,” the man said.
“Oh contraire,” I replied, “for millennia, I’ve been the goddess of wisdom, courage, inspiration, civilization, law and justice, strategic warfare, mathematics, strength, strategy, the arts and crafts.”
“Those aren’t jobs,” he said. “Those sound like skills. What is an example of something you’ve done day-to-day?”
“I’ve protected Athens.”
“So, you’re in security?”
Sometimes I worry that Zeus didn’t give you mortals enough sparks to make fire. (No offense, Prometheus.) But I don’t mind dumbing things down if required. “Yes,” I said. “I understand defense, as well as military strategy.”
That seemed to perk him up. Evidently good security guards are hard to come by. And employers, he said, value military experience.
Long story short: I start Monday at the Olympic Mall! I can’t wait!
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