The Cremator’s Interview
Finding unexpected laughter in the interview that transitioned me from ashes to healing.
The lights flickered in the elevator as it went up floor by floor from the parking garage to the main building of the University. The elevators were always being worked on and serviced. Partially because of the salty sea air on the coast where the school resides, but mainly because the whole island was under water the year prior from Hurricane Ike.
I was dressed for the occasion in ironed slacks, shined shoes, and a wrinkle free button-down with a neutral-colored tie. I tried to look patient and calm to the other candidates wedged in the barely functional elevator. An audible ding came from what sounded like a broken bell, and the doors creaked open. A greeter smiled and said, “Please sign in at the front desk.” She gestured politely, herding us like cattle from the elevator into the room.
Looking around the seating area, the chairs were neatly aligned in rows with every other row turned to face the people sitting across from you. I noticed most of the candidates appeared in their 20’s but there were also several that looked much older. I also realized that I was the only male gender of about twenty female candidates that all had the same appointment time.
