Free Not My Type by Melanie Jacobson Page B

Interview” articles I had read, every single one said to save salary negotiations until the employer offered the job, but I couldn’t help it. This was all so bizarre that I had to ask. “Then how will you be paying me?”
    “Based on page views,” she said. “We’ll offer you a cent for every page view your column receives up to $150 per column.”
    I struggled to do the math in my head and determined that $150 was about half of what I could earn working full-time somewhere at minimum wage. And that’s assuming I got the maximum number of page views. I shook my head.
    “I’m sorry, Ellie. I don’t think this is the right fit for me. The idea of dating gives me a headache. Besides, I’m looking for something more full time, something more news driven.”
    “Don’t say no yet,” Ellie said, leaning back and looking relaxed. “Look at the potential here. I know you want to break into journalism, but you’re not coming in with any real credentials, via your schooling or your work experience. To be honest, if I weren’t in a pinch, I’d look around some more before hiring someone to do this. And no, we can’t afford to hire you full-time now, but we will. As we add more features like your dating column, we’ll draw more readers, and that means we’ll sell more advertising. Your position could become full time soon if we can build our readership fast enough. Which we totally can. We have great stuff brewing.”
    It still didn’t feel like the right fit. Ellie, probably reading that in my face, sighed. “If we sent you on news-related assignments periodically, would it change your mind?”
    “Can you be more specific?”
    She studied me for a long moment, and her shrewd gaze sized me up as she tried to make a deal I couldn’t pass up. “We’re spread pretty thin. What if we used you from time to time when we’re short staffed to go cover breaking news? We’d pay you per article only on what we assign you, but it would give you a chance to build your résumé, and it would mean a slightly larger paycheck. As it is, you have the chance to make up to six hundred dollars a month just with the dating column.”
    My eyes widened. I hadn’t done the math that far, and suddenly that sounded like a pleasant number. I couldn’t quit Handy’s on that, but I could put myself months ahead paying off my wedding debt. Maybe . . .
    No. “That’s a better offer,” I admitted. “But I still don’t know about the dating thing. I’m not a typical Mormon girl. There’s no guarantee that anyone would even want to date me.”
    At that, Ellie burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right?”
    I shook my head, confused about what was so funny.
    She calmed down enough to say, “You’re so stinkin’ perfect for this I can’t stand it. If you were a cookie-cutter LDS girl, you couldn’t do this gig. But you’ve got sass that shows up in everything from your haircut to your writing. If you can fill out your dating profile to reflect the personality that comes through on your blog, you’ll be in good shape. If you post a picture on your profile, you’ll have dates lined up for weeks.”
    I flushed. It had been so long since I had been on a first date that I didn’t even have a good perception of my fair-market value. How sad. Ellie was a stylish, business-savvy girl. She wouldn’t be pushing for me to do the column if she didn’t think it would succeed. I weighed my options. Working with Real Salt Lake wouldn’t happen on the terms I’d imagined. I’d still have to work at Handy’s, but I would have a foot in the door—and a shot at turning it into something full time and permanent. If I didn’t take the job, I had . . . no other options.
    But I hated the idea of Internet dating. Hated it.
    I sighed. “I have to think about this, Ellie. When do you need an answer?”
    “Take the weekend,” she said. “But I’ll need to know by Monday. I do have someone else I can use, but you’re my first