Page 25 of Dump and Chase

I went into detail about my work experience with the women’s university soccer team where I wore many hats but focused on physiotherapy. I got into my experience with cupping, acupuncture, and myofascial release as well because I figured it couldn’t hurt. They listened attentively and took extensive notes.

They then moved on to the boring part, asking me what I would do in certain situations, and I answered all the questions with confidence. Kathleen asked the next question, one I’d been dreading but knew someone would ask.

“You have a bit of a gap in your CV. What were you doing during that time?”

I could hear two voices in my head. One was Wolseley’s, telling me to lie through my teeth, and the other was Jill’s, warning me that if I didn’t go with the truth, when it did come out, it would be ugly.

“I was in Vancouver, actually. At the time, Ethan Grant was my boyfriend. I didn’t finish school while I was there because I was in a different country. Our relationship ended three years ago, I finished school, did my practical work, then started at the Perth Clinic. You’ll notice that Ethan is a reference. We are still friends.”

No one exchanged glances, just the usual note-taking. That had to be promising.

“What did you do at the Perth Clinic?” Allan Tisdale asked. He was the head athletic therapist.

I made my answer as sports-related as possible. How could I tell them I dealt with more than my fair share of racquetball injuries? I did emphasize the attention to detail I had with each client, my structured rehabilitation plan for each of them, and the detailed files I kept on all of them. I’d remembered that was part of the job. Keeping player files detailed.

They asked several more questions about different hypothetical situations and what I would do. I answered those questions like a pro, and noted that if they wanted to dump the interview, they would have done it shortly after my Ethan revelation.

“And why do you want to relocate to Vancouver?” Kathleen asked.

That was a good question. “I’ve always wanted to work with a professional sports team. That’s always been my goal.”

More note-taking.

As they wrapped up with their questions, they asked me if I had anything I wanted them to know. I told them about my history in athletics, how I’d played university hockey for a year, that I loved the game of hockey, and I understood the injuries associated with it.

“And you’d have no problem relocating to Vancouver if you were selected for the position?” Kathleen asked.

“Not at all. I’m already very familiar with the city.”

“I think that’s all,” Kathleen said, glancing at her colleagues to see if they had any additional question. Both said no. “Anything else, Ms. Kildare?”

Once again, Wolseley was in my head, saying, “Don’t do it.” Jill was yelling even louder, insisting I be as honest as possible.

“There is something you should know as it does affect the job. I’m pregnant. I’m due to have my baby mid-April, so I understand that would affect the job. While I understand it’s not ideal, if I am selected as your physiotherapist, I would potentially only miss about six weeks of work if the Ravens make it to the finals.”

More damn note-taking.

“Well, thank you for your time. As you know, the season is quickly approaching, so we intend to pick a candidate in the next few days. If you don’t hear from us by the end of the week, you weren’t selected.”

Right. I knew what that meant.

“Thank you for the interview. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” Damn honesty had screwed me over. I should have listened to what Wolseley would do.

* * *

I didn’t get the job. A week went by and nothing came from the Ravens. I started looking for jobs again, putting out resumes everywhere. I was coming to terms with the fact I’d likely either have to take some shitty job for a few months if they’d have me, or put work on hold until after the baby came. Another gap in my resume. It sucked.

Wolseley and Jill took me out for a movie, followed by some “drinks.” They were having cocktails while I sucked back my mocktail. I needed my friends to cheer me up after my dismal week.

“How is the restaurant coming along?” I asked.

“Still on schedule,” Wolseley said, diving into the artichoke dip we’d ordered. “I told the contractor if we don’t open by the first of November, he’s a dead man. I need to cash in on the holiday rush.”

“I am so proud of you,” I said. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Jill and I are going to have a massive celebration for you!”

“I’ve already made some contacts at Richardson’s. I think we can get some local celebrities at your opening night. Press too,” Jill added.

“You guys are awesome.”

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