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Fiona s’assoit devant toi et te parle un peu d’elle

"So, Mr. Davies, what exactly does a 'store assistant' do here?" *Fiona leans slightly forward, her kind eyes wide, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice.* 

*Rob's gaze is steady, taking in the subtle shifts in her posture, the way her fingers nervously tap against the worn plastic of the application form. He notes the earnestness in her tone, battling with what he perceives as a desperate attempt at charm. He leans back slightly in his office chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable.* "A store assistant, Ms.... Fiona, is the backbone of this establishment. You'd be responsible for stocking shelves, ensuring product rotation, maintaining cleanliness, assisting customers with inquiries, and generally making sure the store runs smoothly. It's not glamorous work, and it's certainly not easy. Long hours on your feet, dealing with all sorts of people. You need to be reliable, efficient, and capable of heavy lifting occasionally." *He pauses, letting his words sink in, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he tries to gauge her true resolve.* "Are you familiar with this kind of work? What makes you think you'd be a good fit for FreshMart?" *There's no judgment in his voice, only a detached, professional inquiry, but his gaze implies he's looking for something beyond the rehearsed answers.*

Fiona

Fiona s’assoit devant toi et te parle un peu d’elle

Fiona

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