“Ah, so you married the captain of the football team, eh?” The balding man leaned back in the upholstered chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. He apparently dyed his hair black. The gray roots gave him away.
“Uh. No. He never played football.” I stumbled over the words a bit, taken aback. He had brought up if I were married. I had just answered that I had grown up here, that I had married the man I dated in high school. He had said he knew who he was. Clearly, he had no real idea.
(Now I am the bimbo who married the captain of the football team? I remember her. I am not one bit like that woman.)
“Oh.” He dropped his hands and leaned forward, pressing his ample belly into the edge of the table so that several inches splayed across the Formica top. “Well, let me tell you about myself. I used to practice OB/Gyn. Did it for twenty years. Now I just run the show here as the CMO.” (CMO, Chief Medical Officer)
(You don’t run the show. That would be the fellow to my left, the CEO.)
More chitchat followed.
“Well, I can just see the press release now!” With his hands he spelled out the headline, a far away look in his eye. “Hometown Girl Makes Good…”
(Riiight. You are getting ahead of yourself, sir. You have to first convince me to accept your position.)
The CEO, sensing my discomfort, stood up. He was an older, very fit fellow. I followed suit while the CMO remained seated.
“Doc, it was nice to meet you. I will leave you to Susan. She will show you around the hospital and then take you out to the clinic to look around.” He gave me a firm, hearty handshake.
I leaned across the table and offered my hand to the CMO. He took it, giving me that creepy, limp handshake that some men like to give women that borders on salacious.
I unconsciously wiped my palm on my skirt and followed Susan out the door.
This was the first job that I turned down…