Only a receptionist in a perfect blazer saying, “Marco will see you shortly.”

Four women waited with me.

One looked about twenty-five.

Another looked close to seventy.

Whenever Marco’s name came up, all of them smiled in the same knowing way.

By the time I opened his office door, I had imagined every explanation except the correct one.

Now I was watching my husband rebuild a stranger’s résumé.

Diane disappeared behind a dressing screen.

When she stepped out, she wore a navy jacket with black pants.

She stood in front of the mirror.

Her face immediately fell.

“This makes me look huge.”

Marco said nothing.

“My hair looks awful.”

Still nothing.

“I look 60.”

Marco stood.

Then he walked over and turned the mirror toward the wall.

Diane gasped.

“Marco!”

“We’re not interviewing your reflection, Diane.” He pointed toward the chair. “Sit.”

She obeyed.

For the next twenty minutes, he ran her through interview questions.

“Tell me about yourself.”

She stumbled.

“Again.”

“Why do you want this position?”

She apologized halfway through.

“Again.”

“Describe a difficult situation you handled.”

This time, Diane talked about caring for her mother while managing three children and an entire household.

Her voice became steadier.

Marco asked another question.

Then another.

Eventually, she stopped searching his face for reassurance.

Only then did Marco turn the mirror back toward her.

“Now tell me what the employer sees.”

Diane looked at herself.

Same jacket.

Same hair.

Same woman.

But now she stood straighter.

After a moment, she whispered,

“Someone who knows what she’s doing.”

Marco smiled.

“Exactly!”

Diane laughed.