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really quite nice – large, whitewashed houses with spacious grounds and often gates leading to small driveways. I hadn’t seen this kind of living for a while and was a little surprised before I realised that of course this guy must have some money if he’s looking for domestic help.
    It took me a few more minutes to find it, and as I was still quite early I ended up hovering outside for a bit, going through in my head what I was going to say and how I was going to convince this guy. Judging from the wording he clearly wants some amount of deference – I mean, who lists “obedient” as a requirement for a housekeeper anyway. Trying not to think that this was all a horrible mistake, I shudder and continue attempting to direct my thoughts to what I’m going to say and how I’m going to convince him that I have plenty of experience.
    Having succeeded only in winding myself up and making myself more nervous, eventually I decide it’s gone from a “ridiculous” kind of early to “reasonable” and after smoothing down my skirt and trying to settle my hair yet again, I approach the gate.
    I push the buzzer, prepared to explain that I’m here about the job interview, but it just beeps and the gate opens without a word.
    Unsuccessfully trying to swallow my nerves, I make my way in slowly, too distracted to admire the luxurious front gardens and just how pristine the whole place is. The entrance porch looms above me as I fail to find a doorbell on the oversized door and resort to using the knocker.
    Boom, boom, boom.
    Despite being the cause, the sound startles me somewhat and I look around uncertainly before returning my attention to the door, caught in that awkward point of not knowing whether I’ve been heard or whether I’d be deemed impatient to try knocking again.
    As I contemplate this, I also wonder whether this guy is going to answer the door himself or whether he already has people working for him to do it. The thought that he might be about to appear in front of me has me suddenly nervous.
    Before my mind could spin on those thoughts further, the door opened and revealed a man standing in front of me. From his elegant attire and confident posture it was obvious he was the man I needed to impress today. Before my eyes had adjusted properly to the indoors he looked me up and down and I tried not to think about how shabby my clothes were compared to his. Then again, he surely couldn’t expect too much from someone applying to be a maid, could he?
    “You’re here about the job.”
    It wasn’t quite a question and as I walked in and met his eyes I momentarily forgot to respond, taken aback by how deeply they seemed to penetrate with a quick glance. I swallowed slightly, wondering why I was suddenly off-balance. Hadn’t I just been prepping for this for the last 15 minutes?
    “Ah, yes.” In an effort not to seem ridiculously slow, I stuck out my hand and added, “I’m Amy. Amy Carlson.”
    His face didn’t change from its stern, intimidating expression, but I felt like he was amused by me as he gave my hand one firm shake and turned away.
    Having not been told anything else, I followed after him, trying not to seem as out of place as I felt. I glanced around a little and noted the wide hallway with large windows set at the end, making the place feel spacious and light. It was a lovely picture, but I couldn’t help thinking it would be a bitch to clean a place like this. I had to do something though, and I was resolved now that I would actually put some work and effort in. I would make the best of this situation, somehow.
    My eyes kept flicking to and from the man in front of me, seeming unable to settle on him for too long. He was walking obviously at ease in his own domain, but with such a powerful posture that I was starting to despair about how I’d ever manage to convince him I was actually experienced. Especially since – well, I wasn’t.
    He opened a large dark wood door to the right and walked