The next day, wearing my outfit, I walked over to the wing of classrooms that I was supposed to be interviewed in.

The room was haphazard, at best. The desks were strewn about the floor like a child’s discarded playthings. The projector was on and streaming the football game. Only one of the two people in the room was watching it.

The other walked right over to me and shook my hand.

“Hi! My name is Anker. I’m really interested in joining EMS. Thanks for having me.”

He grabbed my hand and shook it. I looked over at the boy watching the football game for help. I pulled my hand out of his grasp, taking some of his palm sweat with me.

“Me too. I’m here for an interview.”

Anker jumped back and went into full competitive mode. “Oh. What experience do you have with EMS? I was a volunteer EMT at the fire department near my house. I’ve been doing this for four years.”

I kept my face pleasant, knowing that he would likely get accepted.

Anker turned his attention to the boy watching the football game. The boy was a much better bet as far as schmoozing went.

I sat down. Behind me, the door swung open again. I turned to see who it was.

Two men, one very tall with broad shoulders, the other, the leprechaun from the previous day, walked into the room. They were dressed in what can only be called golf attire: pastel shirts of pink and yellow and shorts of the opposite pastel color. Their shorts were covered in embroidered lobsters and men playing polo. They were wearing aviator sunglasses to shield their eyes from the light and carrying lemon-lime Gatorades. As they walked, they began to chug the Gatorade. It wasn’t until many months later that I would learn that they had been severely hungover.

Anker ran right over and introduced himself, listing off his qualifications. They ignored him and slumped into their seats, probably praying for the sun to stop streaming through the windows.

Another pair walked into the room behind me. One was the boy with the beautiful mixed eyes that I had met at the barbeque. The other was a man with high cheekbones who looked like he knew how to model.

“Andi?” they said in unison, looking at the clipboard they carried.

“That’s me!” I got up and tripped over my backpack.

I followed them out of the room, feeling Anker’s laser beam stare boring a hole in the back of my neck.

I took a seat in the next room, opposite my interviewers. They looked like a panel on a game show with their slightly elevated chairs and serious clipboards.

“Why do you want to be in EMS?”

“Oh, we’re jumping right in. Okay. Um.” I flinched at the sound of my voice. “I want to be in EMS because I’ve never actually been able to make a difference in my community. I’ve done, you know, packed lunches and knitted scarves for the homeless but I’ve never actually seen the difference that made.”

The model leaned towards Akul. “She didn’t say she wanted to help people,” he whispered.

Akul winked at me. “Ask her the next question.”

“What else would you do outside of EMS?”

I paused. “Outside of EMS? Well, I’ve only been in college for two weeks. But I was interested in the Crew team and the Japanese Cooking Club.”

“Are you aware of our duty requirement?”

I nodded. “It’s 24 hours every two weeks.”

Akul smiled, dully. “Over the course of our organization, we have discovered that 24 hours a week is not enough practice for a member to advance through the ranks. How much duty would you be taking if you joined EMS?”

What did they want to hear? I thought. “I would be willing to take a shift every week? Or maybe three shifts every two weeks? Would that work?”

They contemplated their clipboard. “Any questions for us?”

I had just asked them a question, but I let it go.

“Alright, then. You can go into the next room where another pair of interviewers will be waiting. They might ask you similar questions but they are asking them so as many of us as possible have exposure to you. That’s how we make our decision.”

It reminded me of the first day of fifth grade, when we were all trying to pick who would be on our dodgeball teams. Everyone spent the first ten minutes of gym running around, feeling the other kids out and selecting their group. By the end of those ten minutes, all of the strongest and fastest kids had formed a team and when the gym teacher said we were going to play dodge ball, us slower, weaker kids were out of luck. I had trouble seeing my skin because I had so many bruises when I woke up the next day. My mom was sure I had some terrible skin disease because I refused to tell her what had happened. She kept saying that I had this terrible skin disease, but when she hugged me before she sent me off to school, she offered to let me stay home, something I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed to do, not even when I had the flu.

I ran through the same questions with the next interviewer. They released me back into the waiting room where I was dismissed by the football game watcher.