“It’s the administration building. That’s where you’ll have your interview.” Louise picked up the pace. “Like I said, don’t ask questions. Answer whatever they ask you directly. Make sure you emphasize that you can keep a secret. There are spies everywhere in here, so don’t let your guard down, ever. If you get hired, people will try to get you to slip up. They’ll ask what you do here. Tell them this and that.”

“But I thought you said I was supposed to answer directly?”

“That’s just during the interview. Tell them where you went to school, what your skills are, that kind of thing.”

Mary’s stomach flipped. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

They arrived at the building and Louise led Mary to the reception desk and checked her in for her interview. “I’ve got to go to work. Wait here and they’ll call you when they’re ready.” She kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck. You’ll be fine.”

Mary sat in one of the nearby chairs. She didn’t feel at all as though she’d be fine. When Louise had said they were hiring for the war effort, she should’ve asked more questions. You should’ve thought this through. What if you’re not qualified? What if you don’t want to do whatever the job is? Are you going to run back home with your tail between your legs? This is crazy.

By the time a girl not much older than her called her name, her mood had plummeted. She had fairly convinced herself that a full-time job at Meyer’s wasn’t so bad after all.

“You’ll be interviewing with Mr. Knutsen in personnel. He’s right around the corner.” They took a left. “Here we are. Have a seat. He’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you.” The office was drab and unremarkable. There were no personal items, such as family photos.

“Hello.”

Mary’s hand flew to her heart. She jumped to her feet and turned to see a balding, middle-aged man in a crumpled business suit standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“I apologize. Please, sit down. I’m Mr. Knutsen, I’ll be conducting your preliminary interview.”

“I’m Mary Trask.”

“Nice to meet you, Mary.”

He pulled a pen and a folder from his desk drawer. “Let’s start with your personal history. Where is home for you?”

“I hope here, sir.” She thought perhaps he would smile, but he remained stoic.

“And before that?”

“Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen, sir.”

“Do you have a high school diploma?”

“I do.”

“Any prior work experience?”

She told him about her employment at Meyer’s and her responsibilities.

“Very well. Do you know shorthand and do you take dictation?”

“No, sir.” Mary bit her lip. Would that count against her?