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Down In the Boondocks

By Jackson Dunn

The prospects of finally cracking a new job were daunting for me. After months of searching I had made the interview stage of a position I really wanted. The young office assistant had asked me to take a seat and I was beginning to feel a little nervous.

"Mr Alcock, won't be long," he said.

I had dressed well. Even wore a tie. The job was for a nurseryman at a regional Botanical Gardens but I was taking no chances.

The office boy gave me another appraising look that didn't help. He was a whossy character with a very soft, almost effeminate voice, probably no more than eighteen. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a big hooked nose. I didn't like him at all.

I had my hands clasped together twitching my fingers when a side door opened and an austere voice broke the silence.

"Come in, Gary," a solid middle aged gent with a receding hair line greeted me, "I'm Jack Alcock."

...

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