"Don't choke on your temper," said my sweet wife, "I'll scare something for you to wear tomorrow. Let's eat something." She jumped from the sofa intent to go to the kitchen.I held her by her shoulders and turned her to me. "Wait a moment, Cida. Explain the accident to me. How did you manage to total our car on a trip to the market which happens to be almost around the corner? And what happened to the other car?"She had this look of a cornered rat and couldn't meet my eyes. "There wasn't other car, if you must know. I hit the market sign in front of the market." CIDA, HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO HIT THE SIGN THE SIZE OF A BUILDING?" Well, I was talking with Lily on my cellphone..." YOU WERE TALKING ON THE CELLPHONE WHILE DRIVING AND TAKING A TURN?" Well, y-yes, b-but it wasn't because of the cellphone, you see, I dropped the cigarette on my lap and I had to find it before it burned my... you know... I only looked down for a second... I swear!" YOU WERE SMOKING! YOU WERE SMOKING IN THE CAR!. I looked at Tim, but he had already moved to the other side of the table, and was looking at the folder in his hands. I asked her to please take a seat, watching as she made a production of sitting carefully and neatly. The nagging feeling that something was screwy grew stronger.Keeping my eyes on her face and body language, while listening to her replies, I worked through my checklist. It was clear after a few minutes she was intelligent, well read, and had thoroughly studied the job description. She was extremely well mannered. Too well. Everything was amplified, or it struck me, almost like it had been rehearsed. Even her voice and diction were over-correct. And she never broke eye contact. Almost like an animal trying to make sure it was not about to be attacked. I began to wonder if she was a psycho case they were trying to place.When I reached the final, open question phase of the interview, I decided to see how much additional information I could accrue. So I asked her where.
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