2010-07-09: Worst Job Interview Ever!



Date: July 9, 2010


Morgan's job interview turns out to be something else entirely when it's all said and done.

"Worst Job Interview Ever!"

Julian Fennell's Office

This case has been a pain in the ass. From the moment he met his defendants, he's been regretting the decision to take this case. A dumb fantatic leading his even dumber brouther around and getting into trouble. He already knows he can't put them on the stand without then sounding like loons. Julian Fennel is going to have find out about the state's witnesses. The story the boys told, while he's know they aren't lying, doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense. As Julian looks over the file in his office on a Friday afternoon, he picks up the phone and starts to dial.

Having been vaguely hand waved toward Julian's office by the secretary who was otherwise occupied, Morgan Gale walks down the corridor, finding the right door with the right name on it, and peeks inside. She opens her mouth to speak, but sees that the attorney is on the phone, so she lingers a moment in the doorway, hoping to catch his eye. She's dressed for both the heat of the summer and for possible job "interviews" in a pale gray sleeveless linen dress, her hair up in a French twist.

Glancing up for a moment, he spots the woman at the door and waves her in, remembering her from the other night at the bar. He shakes his head as there is no answer on this call and hangs up the phone, scratching off another name. "Hey.. Morgan, right?" He remembers her at least. "Have a seat. Trying to round up some witnesses from an incident late last week." He rises and offers his hand across the desk to her.

"Hi," she says, breathing a sigh of relief. He was drunk the night he offered her a job — he might have forgotten! "I stopped by last week but you were in court, I guess." She accepts his hand and shakes it lightly. "Nothing else has come up yet, though, for me, so … you know. If you are still offering, I'm still accepting. If you're worried at all about hiring me because I was trying to get drunk, I won't make a habit of it." Little does she know he does. "Things are a little less … horrible, I guess."

Julian motions to the seat in front of his desk and nods. "Sit. Please." He starts to move things aside. "All I really have available right now is a courier job. I know it's not much, but you don't have to sit in an office all day. Mostly delivery, summons serving, that sort of thing." He lifts up a stack of papers and pulls out a form and slides it across the desk towards her. "If you want it, you'll just need to fill this out." It looks official enough. "Maybe finding work will make things even less horrible," he smiles.

"I don't have a car or anything…" Peter and Erin were pretty adamant she not drive anywhere; the writers of Afterlife were apparently fond of car accidents and she has a few under her belt in her (fictional) past. "I'm pretty accident prone. Maybe this isn't a good idea." She chews the corner of her lip, brows knitting together, but she fills out the form anyway, slowly and deliberately since she doesn't want to make a mistake and put the incorrect information on it.

"Well, if you can drive, we would provide a vehicle for you. That's not an issue." He's looking through the phone book. Honestly, it should not be this hard. He does glance up at her from across the desk as she's filling out the form, "All you have to have is a driver's license." Julian's running his fingers down the G's in the phone book and picks up the phone and dials again.

She does have one — how they managed to get her one, she isn't going to ask. She really doesn't want to know how she has all the fake identification she has. "I guess," she says with a slight wrinkle of her nose. "I'm just… I've never really driven in the city. I just take cabs and subways. Public transportation for the masses." She's learned to get around pretty well the last couple of weeks, actually. She fills out the basic information: Name, address, emergency contact. There's no prior employment history to write down, but he knew that already.

Julian gets an answering machine, though the names given on the recording aren't the ones he's looking for so he hangs up. He's going to get a intern on this crap. He's spent far too much time on this as it is. "If you think you can't do it, just let me know. It's really all I have at the moment to offer. Though.." He pauses for a moment, then picks up his phone. "John? Julian. Hey, you still need a filing clerk for your office? Yeah? Huh. Well, I might have someone for you, I can send her over. A Morgan.." He pauses and looks up at her as she fills out the form, trying to see if he can get a look at her last name.

With just the slightest pause to make sure she doesn't say Starr, Morgan glances up and supplies, "Gale" with an apologetic smile for being a pain and making him call someone on her behalf. She just knows she'll get in a car accident if she tries to drive — serving someone a subpoena after crashing into their garage would be a major faux pas on her first "real" job.

There's a long pause. "John, let me call you back." He hangs up the phone and glances across the desk at her with this incredulous look on his face. "Morgan Gale. You are Morgan Gale? The Morgan Gale who was at the Museum when it was taken hostage? That Morgan Gale?" He just shaking his head in disbelief. "You can't work here. Not yet, I'm afraid."

Morgan's brows knit together and she tilts her head, looking at him like she expects him to give her the punchline to a joke in a moment. "I told you that, I think. Maybe. I don't remember. I thought I mentioned that I got someone shot on accident and that she probably hates me and she's my one friend in the world's sister. When you asked why I needed to get drunk," she says, putting the memory together in little fragmented sentence bits as she recalls them.

She frowns again, then picks up her purse and stands. "Okay. Thanks, anyway." Worst job interview ever. Not that it was really an interview. How she failed to get a job that was already offered to her — well, that's just her luck, these days, it seems.

Julian holds up his hand to try and stop her from leaving. "I can't hire you because you are going to be a witness in one of my trials. One I will need to talk to you about." He isn't sure the best way to go about this, but he's going to have to try. "I was just trying to reach you." Just this very moment. "I don't want to do this now — well, I do, but I want you to know that I am representing the two men who were arrested for what went down that night." There. It's out.

She stops and turns from the door. "Oh," she says, brows contorting more. "I guess that would be a conflict of interest, wouldn't it…" she murmurs. She looks a little hurt, like his defending them was deliberately choosing them over her, though she knows that's illogical. He's a lawyer. This is what he does. "I … you're going to try to make me look bad on trial, then? I really don't need my life to suck worse than it already does, you know."

Julian tilts his head. "All I want is for us to sit down, let me ask you some questions about what happened." His ability will tell him whether or not you're being truthful. "If you are honest about what happened, then I've no reason to go after you. To make you look bad. "Can we schedule an appointment to go over what you saw?" Honestly, those two jokers are idiots and he'd rather not be doing this, but he already took the retainer, so he's stuck with it for now. "If you leave a number, I can give you a call and we can just sit down, have some coffee and talk."

Morgan closes her eyes for a moment and exhales. She thought she had a job — now she has a court trial and depositions to give. "Yeah, well, I suppose I probably don't have much choice. I don't think I can plead the 5th; if I recall that's just for self-incrimination or for, like, spouses." She smiles to show she's trying to make a joke. "Thanks anyway. The numbers on the form." She left it on the desk, though the job seems a wash anyway.

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