Hope Jenkins
‘Hi. I’m Hope. Hope Jenkins.’ Hope walked into the room with her introduction and sat down in the free chair at the desk. She stuck out her hand to one of the two interviewers with what she hoped looked like a confident smile, trying to conceal her inner nerves.
The lady, who reminded Hope of one of her old primary school teachers, with a thin and accusing face, cocked her head to one side, looking Hope up and down, assessing every inch of her. From behind her steel desk in the cold grey interview room, the interviewer showed her superiority. ‘Alright, Miss Jenkins. Tell us a little bit about yourself.’
Hope pulled back her un-shaken hand quickly, putting it with her other shaking hand on her lap beneath the desk. ‘Er, well, I’m sixteen years old, born and raised here in New York, and I live with my – ’
‘Miss Jenkins, we know all this from your application letter.’ The lady replied, looking mildly irritated. Clasping her hands on the desk and leaning forward in her chair, which made Hope want to lean back, the lady looked Hope dead in the eye. ’I want to know you. What experience do you have? Why do you want this job? What are your aspirations for the future? You get the picture?’
Hope nodded dumbly, swallowing hard. ‘Well, I… I don’t have any experience of working in an office exactly…’
The thin young man with the glasses who sat beside the lady interviewer made a sharp cross on the clipboard he was studying.
Hope became desperate. ‘I mean, I’ve only ever worked as a waitress, but I’m a quick learner, and I’m good at organising. I’ll do whatever you need the assistant to do, I promise, without any comment.’
The lady scoffed. ‘That was in the job description. I won’t want your opinion if I choose to hire you.’
‘Ok.’ Hope nodded, feeling slightly more reassured. ‘Well, as to my aspirations, I don’t really know what I want to do when I get older, and I was kinda just hoping to try this job out and see if it suited me, you know.’
The lady raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, nodding her head curtly in the direction of her colleague, who in turn made another big cross on the clipboard.
‘So, you want this job to see if it’s right for you?’ The lady continued.
Hope shrugged. ‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ She saw nothing amiss in this simple truth.
With a sigh, the lady shook her head, and her colleague rose to his feet. ’I’m afraid that we can’t offer you a job at this time Miss Jenkins; you will have to seek employment in another firm.
Hope sighed, picked up her satchel and prepared to leave. ‘Well, thank you for considering me, and if anything else comes up, I’d love it if you could notify me.’
The lady, in her severe business suit, with her brown hair pulled back into a chignon bun matted down with hairspray, didn’t even nod in acknowledgment of Hope’s statement.
The male assistant coughed to alert Hope to the fact that he was holding the door for her. Hope laughed nervously and quickly jogged out of the room with a polite smile at the male colleague. He glared back at her in response, clearly unimpressed.
A sharp slam of the door behind Hope heralded her less-than-warm reception. Hope sighed once more as all the eyes in the office flicked back to her. Making her walk of shame across the office floor, with every pair of eyes glued to her, Hope tried not to blush and kept her eyes firmly secured on the elevator in front of her.
Pressing the reception button once she was safely inside the tin cage, Hope exhaled as the doors closed and she was alone again. She was understandably upset by the outcome of the interview; this was the fifth job she’d applied for just that week, each with similar levels of success. The interviews had all been pretty much the same: “You’re just not what we’re looking for.”
As Hope walked through the glisteningly pristine reception of the high-rise office block, gloom set in and she began to think that she was destined to be a waitress forever. Her lack of qualifications and experience seemed to negate any good qualities she had for potential employers.
It seemed that no one would ever give Hope a chance to prove herself. Was it a crime to not know what she wanted and to need an opportunity to find out what her destiny was? She had ambition, but nothing to direct it at.
Despite her name, Hope felt like she was running out of chances and becoming a failure.
The shiny office block was a moderate walk away from Hope’s home. Hope had had to leave work half an hour early to make the six o’clock interview, which the other waitress on shift hadn’t been too happy about. She had a long walk back, and the biting winter chill that chapped her skin did not make the prospect cheery.
But Hope smiled. It was days like today, when the winter wind whipped across her fingers and face, that Hope felt alive. As the crisp icicles hung from the edges of buildings and the streets were wet and shiny with melted snow, Hope always felt as if something new was coming around the corner.
Good things always came around in winter. She’d been born in November. January was the beginning of a New Year, which she was always excited about.
But bad things happened too. In the December after her sixth birthday, she’d moved in with her aunt and uncle, which wasn’t so bad, but as it was a result of the death of her parents, Hope didn’t remember the time happily.
A shiver ran down Hope’s spine as the cold finally infiltrated her body. The thought of her parent’s death ten years ago always had that effect on her.
Having had no children of their own, Aunt Sophie and Uncle Luke had taken the poor orphan under their wing and surrounded her with a loving environment to help her forget the pain. They had given her all that they could.
Auntie Sophie had always adored Hope since she was her elder sister’s only child. There was so much of her mother in Hope that Sophie could almost forget that her sister was gone as Hope blossomed into a beautiful young woman. All Sophie wanted was for Hope to be happy and loved, and Hope felt that wish every day of her life.
Looking up at the sky, Hope watched the delicate flakes fall from the black sky above. The snow this year was so delicate; almost like sparkly flour being poured from heaven. Closing her eyes and opening her mouth, Hope let the flakes settle on her tongue and melt upon her cheeks.
The darkening sky denoted that the snow was set to get heavier within the next minutes, but Hope didn’t mind. Pulling up the collar of her father’s old navy-blue storm coat, Hope burrowed her hands deep inside the pockets to maintain some warmth, resuming a steady pace to get her home.
The sidewalks were relatively empty, as most people were snuggled up in their warm homes at that time of night. The rush hour commute was still clogging up the streets, and car drivers became gradually less patient to wait in queues as the sound of horns rang out into the night.
Hope passed a few people as she walked. Most were intently staring down into their phones, barely avoiding crashing into each other as they navigated their way home on auto-pilot. Strange figures, drifting through the night, dancing by each other seamlessly to an unheard tune.
That was the beauty of New York. Hope loved the way that everything in the city flowed. Like a rhythmic train gliding through the night. Smooth, artistic and always on time.
As Hope got closer to home, the dark alleyways began to cast shadows onto her path. Knowing that the local boys would be out at that time of the night, Hope quickened her step, praying that they wouldn’t confront her that evening. After that interview, she was tired and hungry and just wanted to get home safely and without a fuss –
Hope crashed into the chest of a tall boy who had ventured into her path. Wrapped up against the cold in a black leather jacket, the tall young man had covered himself in a choking amount of cologne and poured what looked like a whole bottle of grease onto his jet-black hair. His sneering smile made Hope shiver, knowing that she was helpless and probably about to get roped into something.
‘Heyo Sweet Cakes, what you doin’ out on a night like this all on your lonesome?’
Hope took a step back in an effort to meet the boy’s eyes, trying to retain some pride. He already had the height advantage, so Hope had to make as much of a fierce impression as she could. ‘Going home, Bobby, what does it look like?’
‘Oooo, she ain’t in a good mood tonight, boys.’ Bobby drawled with a wicked laugh as the rest of his posse slithered out of the night air. ‘Well, we knows what to do about that, now don’ we?’
Hope tried not to shudder, closing her eyes briefly, and exhaling a deep breath. She knew what they meant, and just hoped that she was wrong. She wasn’t in the mood to play games with them that night.
‘Mack sent us out to getcha. He’s missed your beauteeful singin’ these past few weeks.’
Hope looked down, pulling her coat collar closer around her and tried to push past Bobby. ‘Well, tell him if he wants to hear me again, he can come get me himself. And he can pay me. I’m done doing him free favours.’
‘Ah ah ah.’ Bobby reached out and pulled Hope’s wrist, tugging her off balance towards him and crushing her up against his body. ‘Now, you know we don’ like that kinda talk.’ Taking his other hand, Bobby stroked down Hope’s cheek in a way that she supposed was meant to be enticing but instead was a menacing threat. ‘I mean, there’s always my way, but Mack says we ain’t to touch you as long as you cooperate all nice like.’
Taking a deep breath to control her anger at the patronising way the boys talked about her, Hope shook Bobby off her. She didn’t feel in danger when he threatened her; she knew full well he could never do anything to her without facing a huge punishment from Mack. ‘Fine. Half an hour, then I’m going home.’
‘Right answer, Sweet Cakes.’ Bobby pulled Hope in close again, draping his long arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on boys, let’s go show Mack what we got.’
Howling the group call out into the night air, sounding quite like a dog since he was very tone deaf, Bobby laughed as his compatriots echoed his signal. Hope groaned; she was in for a long night.
