My gum was useless. The flavour was long gone and my jaw was getting a workout from chewing it.
I didn’t want to litter, so I grabbed a piece of paper out of my purse and wrapped my gum in it before tucking the neat little package into the pointless pocket in my jeans. It seemed fitting, since I could never find anything else to go in there.
I forgot all about the whole thing until I was pulling my jeans out of the dryer this morning. Not only was that tiny pointless pocket full of gum and bits of paper, but one of those bits clearly showed the number 5.
That’s when my mind scrolled back past the useless gum to the reason I had been chewing gum in the first place. The guy doing my interview had offered it to me. And, right before that, he had given me the number for his direct line – written on a yellow post-it note.