I told Joe that I would work half-time on a flexible schedule, and, after calling the director of the start-up, I was invited for an interview. It was merely a formality since I was the protégé of the biggest investor of the firm, but I still did my best to be presentable.
Bettie helped me iron and starch this shirt, thankfully, and the trousers had a perfect crease in the middle thanks to her (I can't get the creases right, for the life of me, so it was good that Bettie did it for me).
I was standing in front of what seemed like an office building in my well-ironed trousers, shirt, and blazer, an elegant bowler hat instead of the usual oilskin fedora, and my leather boots shining from the fresh polish.
The address was correct. The door sign said 'Ashford Pharmaceutical Ltd.'
I went up
