I gritted my teeth when Keith called me at the office to tell me that he had left half way through the interview because he had not liked the job description. Neither had he liked Ms Jones. I sighed and went back to work.
Unable to focus too much for the rest of the afternoon, I came home early. I was even more unimpressed when I found a cigarette butt in the trashcan.
‘All right. Where are they?’ I asked, clicking my fingers sharply.
Keith stared at me innocently for a moment, then dropped his eyes and sighed. He dug his hand into his pocket and surrendered the rather crumpled pack of smokes. It was swiftly confiscated, and Keith spent the next half hour muttering to the wall.
‘I smoked one lousy cigarette! It’s not fucking dope! - for Christ sake!’ It was softly said, but unfortunately not soft enough to escape my ears.
I turned back swiftly. ‘What did you say?’
He looked over his shoulder, eyes open wide. ‘Nothing.’
‘You were supposed to go and attend an interview, not stop off to buy cigarettes.’ I said acidly. My hand connected with his backside sharply. ‘And watch that tongue of yours!’
He gave me a brief glare before dropping his eyes, saying in a much milder tone. ‘I was nervous about the interview. I just wanted something to calm my nerves. A smoke would have done that! I didn’t do ANY drugs! What is wrong with that?’
‘You know the answer to that, Keith. You know the effects of long-term smoking.’ My voice sharpened. ‘AndI said NO – and that should be reason enough!’ Another hard smack had got him quickly facing the wall again.