Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
It appears that Jake Connelly just declared war.
4
Brenna
I can usually hold my own in most situations. I’ve never suffered from anxiety, and nothing really scares me, not even my father, who’s been known to make grown men cry with one look. That’s not hyperbole—I saw it happen once.
But this morning my palms are sweaty and evil butterflies are gnawing at my stomach, and it’s all thanks to this HockeyNet executive, Ed Mulder, who’s been off-putting from the word go. He’s tall, bald, and terrifying, and the first thing he does after shaking my hand is ask why a pretty girl like me is applying for a job behind the camera.
I hide a frown at the sexist remark. One of my TAs at Briar, Tristan, used to be an intern here and he warned me that Mulder is a total jerk. But Tristan also said none of the interns report directly to Ed Mulder, which means I won’t need to deal with him past this interview. He’s just one obstacle I have to get through to strike internship gold.
“Well, as my cover letter stated, I eventually want to be an on-screen analyst or a reporter, but I’m hoping to build experience behind the scenes, too. I’m majoring in Broadcasting and Journalism at Briar, as you already know. Next year I’ll be doing a work placement at—”
“This isn’t a paid internship,” he interrupts. “You’re aware of that?”
I’m caught off-guard. My palms feel slippery when I wring them together, so I place them on my knees. “Oh. Um. Yes, I’m aware.”
“Good. I find that while male applicants come in knowing the details, the female ones often expect to get paid.”
He’s gone from vaguely sexist to obscenely so. And the comment doesn’t make much sense, either. The job posting on the HockeyNet site clearly specified this was an unpaid internship. Why would men expect one thing and women expect another? Is he suggesting that the women didn’t read the posting correctly? Or that we can’t read at all?
Beads of sweat break out at the nape of my neck. I’m so off my game here.
“So. Brenda. Tell me about yourself.”
I gulp. He called me Brenda. Should I correct him?
Of course you should correct him. Screw this guy. You own him. Confident Brenda—I mean Brenna—rears her spectacular head.
“Actually, it’s Brenna,” I say smoothly, “and I think I’d be a good fit here. First and foremost, I love hockey. It’s—”
“Your father is Chad Jensen.” His jaw moves up and down, and I realize he’s chewing gum. Classy.
I answer in a careful tone. “Yes, he is.”
“A championship-winning coach. Multiple Frozen Four wins, right?”
I nod. “He’s a great coach.”
Mulder nods back. “You must be proud of him. What would you say is your biggest strength, aside from having a semi-famous dad?”
I force myself to ignore the snide note in his inquiry and say, “I’m smart. I think on my feet. I thrive under pressure. And most of all, I genuinely love this sport. Hockey is—”
Annnd he’s not listening to me anymore.
His gaze has shifted to the computer screen, and he’s still chewing his gum like a horse chomping on some oats. The window behind his desk provides a fuzzy glimpse of the reflection from his monitor…is that a fantasy hockey lineup? I think it’s the ESPN fantasy page.
He suddenly glances at me. “Who’s your team?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “My college team or—”
“NHL,” he interrupts impatiently. “Who do you root for, Brenda?”
“Brenna,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I root for the Bruins, of course. What about you?”
Mulder snorts loudly. “Oilers. I’m a Canadian boy, through and through.”
I feign interest. “Oh, that’s interesting. Are you from Edmonton, then?”
“I am.” His eyes flick back to his screen. In an absentminded tone, he says, “What would you say is your biggest weakness, aside from having a semi-famous dad?”
I swallow an angry retort. “I can be impatient at times,” I confess, because there’s no way I’m doing that cheesy bit about how my biggest weakness is that I care too much or work too hard. Gag.
Mulder’s attention is once again diverted to his fantasy hockey team. Silence falls over the spacious office. I shift irritably in my chair and examine the glass case against the wall. It displays all the awards the station has won over the years, along with signed paraphernalia from various pro hockey players. There’s a lot of Oilers merch in there, I note.
On the opposite wall, two big screens are showing two different programs: an NHL highlights reel from this weekend, and a Top Ten segment counting down the most explosive rookie seasons of all time. I wish the TVs weren’t on mute. At least then I could hear something interesting while I’m being ignored.
Frustration climbs up my spine like ivy and tightens around my throat. He isn’t paying a lick of attention to me. Either he’s the worst interviewer on the planet, a rude jackass, or he’s not seriously considering me for this position.