The Position Read Online Free PDF

voice tends to bring out the ornery smart aleck in me.  
    “Do you realize,” I say, stepping up to the sleek reception desk, “that it’s impossible to tell when you’re on the phone or when you’re talking to me?”  
    He stares at me and says nothing.  
    “Because I think you do realize it,” I hate myself, but I can’t stop. “In fact, I think you do it on purpose. Just to make people feel stupid. I also think you know perfectly well who I am and why I’m here.”
    “Are you finished?” he says with an exasperated sigh.  
    I shrug.  
    He pushes himself to his feet as if it were a great effort, and glides around the desk with a practiced, formal flair. “I’ll show you to your office,” he says as he whisks right past me. When I turn and follow him, the toe of my foot catches on the heel of the other, something I often do when I’m nervous. I stumble but, amazingly, I don’t fall. The receptionist half turns his head.  
    “If you need some assistance getting there, please let me know,” he says drily. “We’re totally ADA compliant.”  
    Asshole.  
    He leads me into Lazarus’s office, which is empty. We cross the expansive space with its spectacular view and I follow Mr. Snippy into the adjoining small office. The walls are bare and there are no windows. There’s only a desk with a computer and a phone. I feel a vague wave of claustrophobia.  
    “This is yours,” he says. “If you want to bring in and display personal items, you have to run it by Mr. Lazarus first. He despises clutter.”
    “There’s no door to the hall?” I ask quietly. “I have to walk through his office whenever I want to go to the bathroom or something?”  
    “Mr. Lazarus likes to keep track of you,” he says without looking at me. “He doesn’t like his assistant disappearing.”  
    That’s a little draconian, I think. I gaze around my sad little space. It seems strange to have this pathetic little hovel in such a beautiful, modern office. Get over it. It’s a job. A job that a lot of people would jump to get. If you want a big office, you’ll have to work your ass off for it like everybody else.  
    The receptionist turns to go without a word. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. “When does Mr. Lazarus arrive?” I ask his backside.  
    He barely turns his head. “Why don’t you ask his assistant?” he calls over his shoulder. “She’s the one who keeps track of his calendar.”  
    Prick. “Do you have a name?” I call back, feeling all my muscles tightening and the heat rising to my head. “Or should I just call you Jerkoff?”  
    The young man freezes. For a moment he stands completely still, as if composing himself. But when he turns around his face is beet red and there’s fire in his eyes. He storms back to the little office and stands so close to me I can feel his breath on my face.  
    “You want an interesting factoid, smart ass?” he hisses. “About why you were chosen for this job even though I could do it with my eyes closed and still be better than all of his past assistants combined?”  
    I feel my guts clench but still I hold his gaze, unblinking.  
    “Mr. Lazarus is only happy working with female assistants, that’s why. But in the past, all of them have been attractive, nubile young things, which Mr. Lazarus has a hard time resisting. And why shouldn’t he? He’s Jude fucking Lazarus. He’s brilliant and worth millions. He can do what he wants. But it was agreed by all, including the firm’s board, who are less than thrilled with our mounting lawsuits, that the next assistant would be rather…unlovely, if you get my drift. Even Mr. Lazarus seems relieved that he finds absolutely nothing attractive about you. I heard him say it with my own ears.”  
    I stand swaying by the desk, stunned; blinking at him. I know I’m not Miss America or anything, but to get a job specifically because you’re a total ugmo? That’s depressing. The