if anything fits. If not, we’ll put your application on file and call you
if something comes up.”
I nod, repressing a deep sigh and
thank her. I accept the clipboard with the blank application on it and back
away from the desk. There’s a seat between a middle aged man who smells like
syrup and a young girl with horrible acne where I settle and begin to fill
everything out. I’ll freak out if there are no jobs available. I need to do
what I know, and while medical billing may not be everyone’s dream job, at
least it’s something I’m good at. I have this strange ability to memorize
useless information, and medical procedure codes come with the territory.
The door to HR opens and slams,
causing me to jump in my seat at the interruption. “Fiona, we have a problem,”
the woman who comes through the door announces immediately upon entering the
room. She’s really tall, which is something I don’t say very often,
considering I’m well above average height. Her body reminds me of a pencil
with a shock of white hair at the top, almost like one of those troll dolls
that Heidi and I used to collect and put on top of our pencils. Her suit
doesn’t fit her very well, which isn’t surprising considering she’s so tall and
thin. She looks around, seemingly surprised and embarrassed to find herself
surrounded by so many people in HR, so that she walks up to Fiona’s desk and
bends down to speak to her in soft whispers about whatever her problem may be.
I go back to filling out the application, which is a regurgitation of
everything on my resume. The flustered tall woman leaves before I walk up to
Fiona’s desk and hand it over.
“Will you call me if something
matches?” I ask. “Can you show me a list of open positions?”
“Hold on,” Fiona replies, scanning
my application with a long, magenta nail trailing over my handwritten words.
“How many years of billing and coding do you have?”
“Seven,” I answer. “All at the
same company. We were a small third party administrator. I started off as a
coder and when I left I was a manager.” As of last Friday I was a manager,
actually. It feels weird to start from the beginning.
“Hold on,” Fiona tells me. She
picks up her phone and dials an extension. “Hi, it’s Fiona. Can you come back
down here? I might have someone for you. Yes, already. I know. Okay,
thanks.” She puts the receiver down and looks at me. “Talk about timing!” she
exclaims. “Have a seat, you’re about to have an interview.”
“Seriously?” I ask. I hate to look
a gift horse in the mouth, though, so I walk back to my chair between Mr.
Pancakes and Ms. Pimples and have a seat. They both look at me, probably
wondering how I got so lucky, while they’re stuck in vinyl chairs, doomed to
fill out applications that will stay on file for ages. I tap my heel
nervously, waiting for whomever Fiona called on the phone. When the same pencil-troll
woman walks back into the room, my heart skips a beat. I watch as she goes up
to Fiona’s desk and Fiona hands her my application and resume. The woman does
a quick scan and then looks up.
“Leah Holt?” she says, searching
around the room with her eyes. I stand up and come up to her and extend my
hand. She shakes it and smiles. “I’m Gwen Giles, the hospital administrator.
It’s nice to meet you. Fiona, where can we go to talk?”
“Room three,” Fiona replies,
standing up and grabbing her keys. We follow her down a short hall past two
doors and up to a third. Fiona fiddles with the key in the lock and opens the
door. Inside the room is a small table and two chairs on either side. There
is one window looking out the side of the hospital.
“Thank you Fiona,” Gwen says.
Fiona nods and steps out, shutting the door behind her. “Well this is a stroke
of luck,” Gwen tells me, walking toward a chair and sitting down
if something comes up.”
I nod, repressing a deep sigh and
thank her. I accept the clipboard with the blank application on it and back
away from the desk. There’s a seat between a middle aged man who smells like
syrup and a young girl with horrible acne where I settle and begin to fill
everything out. I’ll freak out if there are no jobs available. I need to do
what I know, and while medical billing may not be everyone’s dream job, at
least it’s something I’m good at. I have this strange ability to memorize
useless information, and medical procedure codes come with the territory.
The door to HR opens and slams,
causing me to jump in my seat at the interruption. “Fiona, we have a problem,”
the woman who comes through the door announces immediately upon entering the
room. She’s really tall, which is something I don’t say very often,
considering I’m well above average height. Her body reminds me of a pencil
with a shock of white hair at the top, almost like one of those troll dolls
that Heidi and I used to collect and put on top of our pencils. Her suit
doesn’t fit her very well, which isn’t surprising considering she’s so tall and
thin. She looks around, seemingly surprised and embarrassed to find herself
surrounded by so many people in HR, so that she walks up to Fiona’s desk and
bends down to speak to her in soft whispers about whatever her problem may be.
I go back to filling out the application, which is a regurgitation of
everything on my resume. The flustered tall woman leaves before I walk up to
Fiona’s desk and hand it over.
“Will you call me if something
matches?” I ask. “Can you show me a list of open positions?”
“Hold on,” Fiona replies, scanning
my application with a long, magenta nail trailing over my handwritten words.
“How many years of billing and coding do you have?”
“Seven,” I answer. “All at the
same company. We were a small third party administrator. I started off as a
coder and when I left I was a manager.” As of last Friday I was a manager,
actually. It feels weird to start from the beginning.
“Hold on,” Fiona tells me. She
picks up her phone and dials an extension. “Hi, it’s Fiona. Can you come back
down here? I might have someone for you. Yes, already. I know. Okay,
thanks.” She puts the receiver down and looks at me. “Talk about timing!” she
exclaims. “Have a seat, you’re about to have an interview.”
“Seriously?” I ask. I hate to look
a gift horse in the mouth, though, so I walk back to my chair between Mr.
Pancakes and Ms. Pimples and have a seat. They both look at me, probably
wondering how I got so lucky, while they’re stuck in vinyl chairs, doomed to
fill out applications that will stay on file for ages. I tap my heel
nervously, waiting for whomever Fiona called on the phone. When the same pencil-troll
woman walks back into the room, my heart skips a beat. I watch as she goes up
to Fiona’s desk and Fiona hands her my application and resume. The woman does
a quick scan and then looks up.
“Leah Holt?” she says, searching
around the room with her eyes. I stand up and come up to her and extend my
hand. She shakes it and smiles. “I’m Gwen Giles, the hospital administrator.
It’s nice to meet you. Fiona, where can we go to talk?”
“Room three,” Fiona replies,
standing up and grabbing her keys. We follow her down a short hall past two
doors and up to a third. Fiona fiddles with the key in the lock and opens the
door. Inside the room is a small table and two chairs on either side. There
is one window looking out the side of the hospital.
“Thank you Fiona,” Gwen says.
Fiona nods and steps out, shutting the door behind her. “Well this is a stroke
of luck,” Gwen tells me, walking toward a chair and sitting down
Similar Books
