The Job Fair
"She's a recruiter at a diversity job fair. He's the candidate who spends way too long at her booth—asking questions that have nothing to do with employment. When the fair ends and she's packing up, he asks the only question that matters."
"Do you have openings in finance?"
He's been at my booth for forty minutes. Asked about every department. Shown no interest in actually applying.
"We have several. Would you like a brochure?"
"I've taken three." He holds them up. "I'm not here for the job."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because you smiled at me when I walked in." He sets down the brochures. "And I couldn't leave without talking to you."
It's the worst line I've ever heard.
It's also the most honest thing anyone's said to me all day.
"I'm working."
"I know. That's why I keep pretending to be interested in—" He checks a brochure. "—accounts receivable."
"That's not even a real department."
"See? I'm terrible at this." He grins. "But I've been standing here for forty minutes and you haven't called security. That has to mean something."
The fair ends.
I pack up my booth while he hovers nearby.
"You're still here," I observe.
"I'm persistent."
"Some would say annoying."
"Some would." He helps me fold a banner. "Can I buy you coffee?"
"For taking all my brochures?"
"For wasting your afternoon with fake questions." He holds the banner out. "One coffee. If I'm still annoying after that, you never have to see me again."
One coffee becomes three.
He's not annoying. He's charming in a way that sneaks up on you—self-deprecating, curious, actually listening when I talk.
"Why job fairs?" he asks.
"Because I like connecting people with opportunities."
"Very HR of you."
"What would you prefer I said?"
"The truth." He leans forward. "Why do you do this?"
"Because I was unemployed once. Someone at a job fair took a chance on me. Now I do the same." I shrug. "Boring, right?"
"The opposite of boring." His eyes are warm. "The opposite of everything I expected."
He walks me to the tube.
"Can I see you again?" he asks. "Not at a job fair. Not while you're working."
"What would we do?"
"Anything you want." He takes my hand. "I just want more time."
"You're very forward."
"I wasted forty minutes on fake questions. I'm done wasting time."
We date through the spring.
He gets a job—not at my company, somewhere better suited. We celebrate with dinner that turns into something more.
"Idris—"
"You're the best thing that ever happened at a job fair."
"That's not saying much."
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me." He pulls me closer. "That's saying everything."
A year later, he proposes.
At a job fair. Same venue where we met. He's set up his own booth—one sign that says "Future Husband Opening."
"You're ridiculous," I say.
"I'm committed." He kneels in front of everyone. "What do you say? Want to fill this position?"
I say yes.
Best hire I ever made.