Today is the day of the interview with the owner of Ford Industries. I am nervous, especially because he will be personally conducting the interview. I don't understand why I can't just meet with the HR manager like in any other place. Oh well... I guess it's because the job is to be his personal assistant. Yes, once again I am applying for a position that has nothing to do with my career, but Raiza helped me get the interview and the salary is not something to be underestimated. With that money, I can provide a better quality of life for my mother and make her illness more bearable.
I try to dress the best I can, but my wardrobe is not cooperating.
"Good morning!" enthusiastically greets Raiza, who enters my room with a couple of bags in her hands. "Tell me you weren't planning on going like this," she says, making a disapproving face and pointing at my clothes. I simply shrug and smile somewhat embarrassed, because I have to admit that I don't look good at all. I'm wearing a classic pair of pants that used to be black, but now lean towards red, flat sandals, and the only salvaged item is my white shirt, the one that has been through countless battles.
She rolls her eyes and hands me the bags. "Quickly, put this on. I'll take you before going to work." My eyes well up with tears and when I'm about to speak, she interrupts me. "Don't even think about it. I don't want your eyelids to get swollen, and besides, you'll make me cry too, and then my makeup will be ruined, and that would be catastrophic."
I smile widely.
"Thank you, you're the best!"
"That's better," she says.
Quickly, I undress in front of her. We have complete and utter trust in each other to do so. I take the skirt, then the top, and finally the blazer, all in white and fitted to my figure. Once she finishes dressing me, I can't help but look at my feet.
"Don't worry, a fairy godmother doesn't do her job halfway," Raiza says, handing another bag in my direction. When I look inside, it contains a pair of pointed heels and a beige purse.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I hug her and leave a huge kiss on her cheek. I put on the shoes and she proceeds to apply very subtle makeup on me.
"Perfect, you look beautiful," she concludes her work with these last words. "Now let's go or you'll be late."
"Yes, you're right." I grab the purse. It's not necessary to bring a resume because I have already sent it to the email beforehand. I quickly say goodbye to my mother and then we leave.
It takes us twenty-five minutes to get to Ford Industries.
"Go for that job, you're the best!" exclaims my friend.
"Thank you," I smile at her and get out of the car. As I do, my gaze rises, taking in the grandeur of the huge building. I cross my fingers, holding onto the good luck that I haven't had in a long time, and approach the entrance. Without any trouble, the security guard lets me in and directs me to the reception where a beautiful blonde points me to the floor and tells me to go to the CEO's secretary and show my identification when I get there. I do as instructed, and the woman kindly asks me to wait with the other three applicants who are already waiting. I have to admit that more than attending an interview for an assistant position, it seems like we're all going to a modeling agency, because aside from being beautiful women, their way of dressing is somewhat revealing. I'm not criticizing, everyone is free to dress however they want, but everything has its time and place. After me, a couple more girls arrive and we are attended to in the order of arrival.
"Miss Chanel Walker, please come with me," says the secretary, who is no less beautiful than the rest of the women I've seen since I entered this place. God, I think I'm the plainest one here. No one told me I was coming to a beauty pageant, not a job interview. I follow her and she asks me to wait for a couple of seconds before entering Richard Ford's office. She doesn't take long to come out and call my name. Once I enter, she closes the door.
I close my eyes for a couple of seconds. I know I won't make a good impression if this is the first thing I do, but I really need to calm my nerves. It's not just a job at stake here, but a better quality of life for my mother. I calm down as I smell the exquisite fragrance of a masculine perfume. I inhale it and slowly open my eyes. It may seem strange, but as I do, I find myself staring into piercing green eyes just ten centimeters away from mine. I stare at them, feeling like I've seen them before, but I can't remember where. I open my lips to say something, but my lower lip trembles slightly. The situation feels strange.
"Good morning," I manage to say after snapping out of my thoughts.
"Good morning?" Okay, this questioning greeting throws me off a bit and the nerves attack, but I manage to hide them, or at least I think so.
"It's a pleasure, Mr. Ford." I extend my hand and take a step back to regain my personal space. This man's presence is somewhat intimidating. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at my hand, and after what feels like hours but is only a few seconds, he finally takes it, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"Have we met before, Miss Walker?"
"Definitely not. I would remember," I quickly reply. I don't know why, but his jaw tenses when he hears my answer. He circles around the desk and sits in front of the laptop, gesturing for me to do the same in the chair opposite him.
"Where have you been for the past few months?"
"Um... I've been in England."
"What does a woman of limited means do to afford a trip to England?" I don't understand why these kinds of questions, but I suppose I must answer.
"Work, like normal people do."
"Do you consider yourself part of that 'normal' people?"
"I am."
"What were you doing in England?"
"I worked as a saleswoman in a flower shop. I know it's not the experience needed for this position, but..."
"I didn't ask what you were doing for work. I asked what led you to England."
"They were personal reasons... and if you don't mind, I would prefer to omit the topic." I'm here for a job, not for pity. If I start talking about my mother's condition, I'll probably end up crying.
"The interview is over. If you qualify, my secretary will get in touch. Now, please leave..."
Damn it! He's not going to hire me.
...Author's Note...
My beloved readers, thank you for embarking on this new journey with me, I love you and I missed the connection with all of you.
I promise you will enjoy this story, but in order for us to connect, I need you to visit the link I'm providing, it's the song that inspires this story, LADRONA (Morat*)
"Https://youtu.be/YncpkTgPulU"
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