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A bit more worldbuilding, this one about job interviews. (Yes, what the employers were doing was illegal.)
---
The sound of the front door closing startled Shirya out of her novel, and she shook her head as she got up. "Is that you, Marcus?" she called.
"Yeah," he answered brusquely.
She headed out and looked up at him, watched him put the briefcase down. He certainly looked professional in the charcoal-gray suit. "So how was the job interview?" she asked, although she already suspected the answer.
"Not great." He collapsed down into the armchair, looking up at her, his eyes exhausted. "I'm going to report them. They asked a bunch of illegal questions. When I refused to answer, they told me I wasn't what they were looking for."
"Are you kidding me? Again?"
"Yeah," he said, pressing his left hand to his temple - no rings, as usual. He never wore rings to job interviews. It was the only time she knew of that he took them off. "It was the usual bullshit, you know. First they were trying to get me to tell them stories about my family - the man who interviewed me was telling me about his family's kids and obviously expecting me to open up too, you know, the usual. I didn't bite, and just kept asking about the job, and eventually he came out and just asked me - so, was I a family man, did I have kids, did I have a full traditional marriage, shit like that. I was as polite as I could be, said I wanted to focus on questions about the job. I have all the certs they were asking for, the experience -"
He coughed, interrupting his tirade, and Shriya automatically went over the kitchen counter. She grabbed a couple of cough drops and came back, setting them on the arm of the chair.
"Thanks," he said once the cough was under control, started unwrapping one of the drops. "So dry out there."
"I get it," she said, honestly. She'd been wearing a mask to clean; even normal amounts of house dust could make her sick. Even with the mask, she'd still been coughing, enough that she'd had to take a break after an hour or so. She'd ask Kris for help tomorrow, if they didn't mind helping on their day off. They'd made the offer a while back and said over and over that her allergies weren't her fault, but she still felt like a failure; she was stuck at home until the immigration paperwork went through, so she at least ought to be able to contribute outside of cooking for everyone.
He nodded at her. Her eyes had to be red... he could probably see that she'd had a reaction. He popped the cough drop into his mouth and sat back, closing his eyes. "Anyway. After I said that, they hemmed and hawed over my resume a bit, then looked back up and said that they didn't think that I was what they were looking for. I asked why, but they just said it was a mismatch in corporate culture, we had to work together which meant we needed to be more forthcoming. All because they can't wheedle me into giving them my damn moiety and how many people I'm married to."
Shriya nodded, feeling the familiar sinking feeling in her gut. She was used to people knowing her moiety before they even looked at her; she hadn't been prepared for this sort of fierce protectiveness over others knowing who they were. She could understand it - she'd never had the luxury of people judging her on her merits before expecting her to be the typical Morning woman. Now, when she met someone new she felt like she was being scrutinized by someone who cared less about her as a person and more about their little guessing game, and people could be very rude - or worse - if she dared tell them they guessed wrong. She didn't think that was better.
The best way to deal with it was what Rich had told her long ago - don't even bother to answer them. Just smile and laugh and let them draw their own conclusions. And being in a full recognized marriage had made the questions less frequent anyway. She always wore her rings - yes, all of them, even the gold ring with the emerald that she wore on her right hand. As much as looking at it made her heart hurt, it was still less painful than not wearing it. Ever since that disastrous mingle, she didn't see any reason not to just keep it on.
"Let me get some rest," he said, not looking over at her, but there was something kinder in his voice now. "Then I'll pick up wherever you left off. We really ought to get you some goggles, see if they help with the dust."
"That's fine," she said automatically, though she did reach over and take his hand. She'd just wanted to help - she knew that with Kris working full-time that they were having trouble keeping things clean. "I got through the bedrooms, at least. I wanted to start on the small bathroom next."
"Sure. I'll send the report tomorrow morning. For all the good it'll likely do." He opened one eye and looked at her fondly. "You can take some time for yourself, you know," he said softly. "There's no need for you to suffer over this. We'll get the visa worked out soon."
"I know." But privately she wished she could be as optimistic.
---
The sound of the front door closing startled Shirya out of her novel, and she shook her head as she got up. "Is that you, Marcus?" she called.
"Yeah," he answered brusquely.
She headed out and looked up at him, watched him put the briefcase down. He certainly looked professional in the charcoal-gray suit. "So how was the job interview?" she asked, although she already suspected the answer.
"Not great." He collapsed down into the armchair, looking up at her, his eyes exhausted. "I'm going to report them. They asked a bunch of illegal questions. When I refused to answer, they told me I wasn't what they were looking for."
"Are you kidding me? Again?"
"Yeah," he said, pressing his left hand to his temple - no rings, as usual. He never wore rings to job interviews. It was the only time she knew of that he took them off. "It was the usual bullshit, you know. First they were trying to get me to tell them stories about my family - the man who interviewed me was telling me about his family's kids and obviously expecting me to open up too, you know, the usual. I didn't bite, and just kept asking about the job, and eventually he came out and just asked me - so, was I a family man, did I have kids, did I have a full traditional marriage, shit like that. I was as polite as I could be, said I wanted to focus on questions about the job. I have all the certs they were asking for, the experience -"
He coughed, interrupting his tirade, and Shriya automatically went over the kitchen counter. She grabbed a couple of cough drops and came back, setting them on the arm of the chair.
"Thanks," he said once the cough was under control, started unwrapping one of the drops. "So dry out there."
"I get it," she said, honestly. She'd been wearing a mask to clean; even normal amounts of house dust could make her sick. Even with the mask, she'd still been coughing, enough that she'd had to take a break after an hour or so. She'd ask Kris for help tomorrow, if they didn't mind helping on their day off. They'd made the offer a while back and said over and over that her allergies weren't her fault, but she still felt like a failure; she was stuck at home until the immigration paperwork went through, so she at least ought to be able to contribute outside of cooking for everyone.
He nodded at her. Her eyes had to be red... he could probably see that she'd had a reaction. He popped the cough drop into his mouth and sat back, closing his eyes. "Anyway. After I said that, they hemmed and hawed over my resume a bit, then looked back up and said that they didn't think that I was what they were looking for. I asked why, but they just said it was a mismatch in corporate culture, we had to work together which meant we needed to be more forthcoming. All because they can't wheedle me into giving them my damn moiety and how many people I'm married to."
Shriya nodded, feeling the familiar sinking feeling in her gut. She was used to people knowing her moiety before they even looked at her; she hadn't been prepared for this sort of fierce protectiveness over others knowing who they were. She could understand it - she'd never had the luxury of people judging her on her merits before expecting her to be the typical Morning woman. Now, when she met someone new she felt like she was being scrutinized by someone who cared less about her as a person and more about their little guessing game, and people could be very rude - or worse - if she dared tell them they guessed wrong. She didn't think that was better.
The best way to deal with it was what Rich had told her long ago - don't even bother to answer them. Just smile and laugh and let them draw their own conclusions. And being in a full recognized marriage had made the questions less frequent anyway. She always wore her rings - yes, all of them, even the gold ring with the emerald that she wore on her right hand. As much as looking at it made her heart hurt, it was still less painful than not wearing it. Ever since that disastrous mingle, she didn't see any reason not to just keep it on.
"Let me get some rest," he said, not looking over at her, but there was something kinder in his voice now. "Then I'll pick up wherever you left off. We really ought to get you some goggles, see if they help with the dust."
"That's fine," she said automatically, though she did reach over and take his hand. She'd just wanted to help - she knew that with Kris working full-time that they were having trouble keeping things clean. "I got through the bedrooms, at least. I wanted to start on the small bathroom next."
"Sure. I'll send the report tomorrow morning. For all the good it'll likely do." He opened one eye and looked at her fondly. "You can take some time for yourself, you know," he said softly. "There's no need for you to suffer over this. We'll get the visa worked out soon."
"I know." But privately she wished she could be as optimistic.
