My Boss, or My Lover?

I picked up the red pencil skirt I bought two weeks ago from ’La Playa,’ the only French store in town. The paillettes running diagonally from the zip to the slit at the front had my mouth watering when I passed by the store’s display window on my way home. I had zero intention of getting any garments that day but the way the light reflected from the sparkly material left no residual thoughts on the matter. I knew I had to get it.

I decided on wearing it, a red jacket, and a white heart print V-neck blouse for my job interview today. Dressing to impress for the first day is so important to me because holding a position at ’The Piffler,’ is not only my biggest dream but it feels almost as if it’s still a dream. Having just finished college, I have no experience in the accounting field and I’m a little scared that my incognizance will jeopardise the position I’ve got.

Nevertheless, Mark Twain said, ‘The secret of getting ahead is getting started.’

I stepped outside of my apartment and into the bustling mess of the city. The chill that ran up my leg pushed thoughts of instant regret, anxiety, and fear into my mind.

“Going downtown?” a taxi man shouted at me, coming 70 miles per hour down the stretch. I pushed out my hand indicating that I am, and he pulled to a stop two houses from my apartment. I got in and sat crushed between the two other passengers.

Maybe it’s the speed of the taxi, or the frequent swerving that had my nerves eating away at my sanity, but throughout the whole ride I was fighting to keep my breakfast down.

A few minutes away from the office, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a quick text to my older brother.

Sariah: Singh, is this really happening?

A few seconds later, Singh: I knew you would’ve had second thoughts, (rolls eyes emoji) Yes Sara, you’re working at The Piffler now.

Sariah: I can’t believe this, I’m so nervous.

Singh: Don’t be. You’ve got this.

Sariah: Do I?

Singh: No one else got it like you do.

I smiled, Sariah: Thanks Singhy.

Singh: Go show ’em S.

The taxi finally reached the town, dropping me 30 seconds away from The Piffler, and my eyes gazed lovingly at the magnificently sculptured building. When I first saw it, I was shocked and struck at how striking and pristine it looked. The building is simply beautiful. The shocking green-grey themed exterior matched with the modern technological look separated the building from all the other mundane, outdated office buildings that surrounded it. It rose metres up in the air, and on a sunny day, the top disappeared into the rays of the sun.. The front of The Piffler has glass windows going all the way to the top with a few green colored elevators undulating in synchronism. The building is metres wide and holds at least 35 floors. Given its unusual height.and unique design, it stood out immensely in the pool of the surrounding cavernous buildings.

There is early morning traffic flowing in and out of the building as people of all sizes, colour and shape graced the ground floor of The Piffler.

Excitement spurred within me. As the newly admitted Junior Internal Auditor of Piffler’s Enterprise, a multi-billion gaming and tech company, excitement was too small a word to describe how I am feeling right now. But it came close enough.

I stepped into the building heading directly to the front desk, regarding the redheaded receptionist with my most profound smile. I waited patiently as she spoke into a headset talking animatedly into the mic. It seemed rude to interrupt her, but I didn’t know where to go or what to do.

“Uh- excuse me?” I said waving to her through the glass that separated us. She held up a finger indicating that I am to wait until she’s finished and continued speaking through the microphone.

I nodded and busied myself with observing the ground floor.. There were so many people here. People from a plethora of races, hassled in and out of the building, a casual business look poised on their faces. Most of them dressed to express the prestige of the company and I effectively felt like an outsider as I realised my aura was way hippier than the other employees around me.

“Yes, how may I help you?” the receptionist interrupted my thoughts.

“Good morning, I’m Sariah Johanesen, and I’m the new Junior Auditor for The Piffler’s Enterprise.” I said. A smile tugged at her lips when I started speaking and stayed there for a few seconds after. She hid a chuckle behind her hand before slipping a business look onto her face.

“No, you’re not. If you were, you would know where to go.” My cheeks tinged red from embarrassment. “But you are scheduled for an interview for that position.”

An interview?

She must’ve seen the confusion on my face because she explained.

“It’s protocol here, don’t be embarrassed. I’ve said this so many times over the course of my job, it’s okay, I promise. Don’t take it personal. The thing is, you apply for the position and when you are accepted as a preliminary candidate, you must interview or go through a series of interviews before you are accepted and stipulated to begin working. After that process, you will know where to go, and those minute but important details.”

“Oh,” my cheeks flushed, “I didn’t know that. Where do I go for the interview?”

“15th floor, the receptionist there will give you directions.” She handed me a green, grey and black pass, “This is a temporary pass. You will use this for your interviews and if you’re not hired, you’ll be instructed to toss it.” She said,

I nodded, “Thank you.”

She smiled and ushered me to the elevator. “All the best.”

I entered the elevator, pressing the button for the fifteenth floor. It brightened and the elevator began to ascend

15 secs.

That was the length of the ride up, but it was enough for me to go through the seven stages of grief. I knew I wouldn’t get this job. It was too good to be true.

I’m not even prepared for an interview. And I could just imagine how many people applied for this position and are here to interview for the job. My thoughts checked out because as I stepped onto the 15th floor, people littered the area. I could barely spot the receptionist through the crowd of people. I pummelled my way through, whispering a few sorry’s as I had to push a few people out of my way as I thrusted through. Many of the people were angry -not at me- and I could only assume it’s because they’ve only just found out about the interview.

I chuckled at my demise. Junior Accountant of The Piffler’s Enterprise. It was a good thought while it lasted but I definitely was not going to get this job. Especially not with so many older looking people here. They had the experience that I didn’t.

I approached the receptionist, offering a smile as I spoke to her

“I’m here for an interview-” she cut me off,

“Get in line, you’re the 48th person. Your interview time slot will be around 10:30. Good luck.” She said mundanely, thrusting a paper with a number into my hand. She hadn’t looked at me, and as I took the paper from her, she signalled the person behind me to approach her desk. I walked off quickly, dreading having to go through the sea of people behind me again.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as the realisation hit me. A feeling similar to being rejected from your dream school. I felt like a kid being denied candy that I walked the entire supermarket asking my parents to purchase for me. I held my head down as I walked, allowing my hair to frame my face. I wanted to not be here very badly because it forced me to realise that my dream is and most likely would not become a reality. I don’t even know where the restroom is, but I fear if I stop walking, I’ll become a bawling mess. And that would be a bad first impression.

Heck, who cares? I’m not getting the job anyway.

I walked briskly to the end of the corridor looking for a quiet place to sit. I settled into a loveseat, away from the hustle and bustle of the main desk, that provided a striking view of the city. It was mesmerising and I sat enthralled by the sight, amazed at how miniscule everything looked from up here. The buildings, the cars, the parks, I could simply reach out and take them up as if they weighed nothing. Of course not, but that’s the impression the view gave.

I’m not sure how long I sat there but by the time someone spoke to me, my anguish had subsided.