Al Jacobsen leans back in his chair, puts his feet up on the desk. He had talked to almost twenty job applicants for this one job alone and had gone through the second interview rigamarole with three of them. He felt the surge of his own power like a pellot of speed up to the final decision. Then it was out of his hands except for his personal input.
And of course, the phone calls. He stares at the top page of each man's application. He circles the phone numbers in red. He goes back and circles their names so he doesn't get messed up. He doesn't like to defile the forms, but one lucky guy will be asked to make out another application and the other two, well, they'll be thrown away.