Perfectly Imperfect

Perfectly Imperfect

The lid popped off my takeaway cup with a vicious, splurt and scalding liquid leapt went onto my freshly white shirt. The smelt of burnt espresso wrapped around me like a guilty confession. The deep, brown stains bloomed quickly across my chest like they were proud of thenselves for ruining my day.

This was definitely not how future CEOs were supposed to arrive at their job interviews.

I stood frozen outside the glass tower of Henningtons & Co., watching the stain darken. The building rose above me, reflecting the sky so sharply it looked like it could cut you. Looking through the perfectly polished windows, I could see workers moving confidently across the marble floor.

My day had been already ruined from the start.

Firstly, my phone somehow didn’t manage to charge so my alarm didn’t go off. Then, i got out of bed, stepping straight into my hair straightener. The heat kissed the sole of my foot and I yelped, hopping across the room like was performing some desperate dance ritual.

Then, my stubborn tie betrayed me, refusing to sit straight. Worst of all, my hair was an entire mess so bad that my comb got stuck. I tangled my hair even more as I tried to get it out. So, I did the unthinkable and cut a piece of the chunk of my hair out. The mirror reflected a version of me that looked slightly unhinged.

By the time I can for the bus, the sky had decided to join in. Rain poured down without a warning, leaving my unevenly, chopped hair look like shiny seaweed. My shoes filled with cold water, leaving my socks also soaking wet - a feeling that everyone hates. Each step made a quiet squelch and I could feel my socks clinging onto my skin, damp and disappointing.

Still, I told myself that this was just a test, a hero always struggles before victory.

I stared at my coffee stain, my reflection in the building's glass looking like I just lost a fight with a Starbucks barista. With a cherry on top, I smelled like a cafe floor.

I considered running but instead, I marched inside. The air conditioning hit me first - icy and unforgiving against my damp clothes. My skin prickled as l approached the reception desk, hiding my embarrassment and trying to stand tall.

"Name?" The receptionist brightly asked.

The lemon scented air calmed me down so l gave my name, speaking smoothly. She nodded and told me to wait.

I sat in a comfortable, fabric chair and noticed another candidate across from me looking perfect. Crisp navy suit and confident posture. He glanced at me then my shirt.

A door opened.

"Next please.”

That was me.

My legs felt like jelly as I stood up. My heartbeat roared In my ears as I entered the interview room.

“Rough morning?” she asked, glancing at my shirt. I braced myself for humiliation but surprisingly instead, she laughed.

“I onced spilled an entire mango smoothie on myself before my first interview," she said. "Bright orange, worse than coffee.”

The other interviewers smiled.

The tension inside me loosened, like a knot in a rope finally untying, I laughed too - nervously at first but then it became real. I answered their questions without pretending to be perfect.

An hour later, I walked back outside. The sky had cleared. Sunlight reflected off the building again but this time it looked warm instead of sharp.

My phone buzzed before even reached to the bus stop. "We’d like to offer you the position.”

My face was stunned. l felt as if I just stepped out from a heavy, silver armour.

Turns out, my thoughts about the morning disasters being signs I would fail, were just proof that I was human. And apparently, that was an important part of what they were looking for.