The Fear Collectors
an excerpt

Erica dropped her bag behind the reception desk and spread out her newspaper, then went back into the tearoom to get a cup of tea. She had an hour before the front door would open, and it wasn’t as if they ever got very many visitors, but there might be phone messages to note down off the answering machine.

Brad from the morning team was in the tearoom, shoving coins into the vending machine as fast as he could as an ad for a car dealership played over the speakers that were everywhere in the building. He gave her a quick wave and smile as he scooped up his bag of cheese and onion chips and hurried back to the studio. For a small radio station, everyone got a lot of bustling around done, except Erica. She sometimes wondered why they bothered having a receptionist.

Tea made, Erica sat down at her desk, started the computer, and checked the machine for messages. One message, but the caller said nothing – it sounded like they’d been standing in a high wind, and maybe they hadn’t heard the beep or something. Erica deleted it.

And that was about the most exciting thing that happened all day. She didn’t get her interview, which meant that she was going to have to keep dressing up until she did. She wrote job ads in her head:

Wanted: someone who will sit behind a desk all day, answer the phone twice, and otherwise be bored out of their skull. Must be willing to clean the coffee machine, including the skanky milk hoses, and consequently smell like off milk for the rest of the day because the soap dispensers in the toilets didn’t get refilled again. Must also like photocopier toner, especially having it all over their hands. Willingness to smile and nod when the program directors stop by your desk to talk about ‘nash’ and ‘reeg’ ratings because they’re oh-so-hip optional. Salary package: might not be big bucks, but you get Internet access and it almost never gets checked because everyone else in the office is computer illiterate due to being older than God.