created some…I don’t
know, some app for smart phones or tablets or something? It’s such an early
market right now and he has a huge piece of the pie. His company designs them
as well as controls the business side of it.”
“I don’t know anything
about apps.” I said warily.
Cathy shrugged, “It
doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s a personal assistant positon.”
I sighed and agreed.
I was instantly having
second thoughts standing outside the building that was featured downtown. The
20 story glass building I had thought always housed various businesses actually
held just the one I was going in for the job interview for. I couldn’t imagine
rent on this building was cheap.
After Cathy had left, I
had Googled the business. Cathy had been wrong on some fronts — the business
wasn’t just an app related one. The owner, Mr. Bradley Gable, created a
processing chip that was used in most smart phones today on top of all the apps
he had created. Mr. Gable was the epitome of rich, having hit billionaire
status. I knew I had only gotten this interview due to Cathy’s friend, because
this had to be a coveted position and my experience was all real estate based.
I took a deep breath
and walked through the double doors. There was a fountain in the lobby, marble
flooring, and a soft lighted waiting room. I was expecting to see the other
applicants there but it was empty. There was a large desk with a prim looking
woman behind it, typing away quickly on her computer. My heels sounded like gun
shots as I timidly walked across the floor towards the desk.
“Uhm, excuse me?” I
said, feeling stupid.
The woman didn’t stop
typing but looked up at me, “Yes?”
“I have an interview,”
I said but the woman didn’t say anything back and I stumbled on, “For a
position with Mr. Gable.”
The woman looked at me
closer, “This is his company.”
I wanted to crawl a
hole and vanish at this point but I kept going, “Yes, I know. It’s for an
assistant position.”
“Oh!” The woman said,
as though now everything made sense, “You have to go directly to the top floor.
What is your name?” She finally stopped typing and picked up the phone on her
desk.
“Serena Warden.”
The woman hit three numbers
on the key pad, paused and then spoke, “Serena Warden will be coming up to the
top floor for her interview,” Another pause, “Yes, thank you,” She hung up and
looked back at me, “You can take the elevator to the top floor, miss.”
The woman nodded at me
and then looked back down at her computer, resuming her rapid fire pace. I took
this as the conversation was now over and I walked towards the elevator,
feeling more and more nervous. There was no music on the elevator and it felt a
bit jarring to me. My thoughts swirled together — why was I so nervous? Mostly
because my job interviews basically were zero, having worked for my father for
so long. And to work for someone so rich while I was now poor…
The elevator doors
opened soundlessly and I stepped into a small waiting room. Now this was filled
with applicants, finely dressed woman in designer clothing. I looked down at my
own clothes, which was designer(Chanel), but about three seasons old due to my
financial situation. I was sure these woman could tell that in a heartbeat —
And why were only woman
here anyway? Was this the 1950s, where only woman could be “personal
assistants”? I hoped Mr. Gable wasn’t looking for something more than that. I
tried to stand taller and went over to the woman behind the desk.
“Hi, I’m Serena Warden
—“
The woman waved her
hand, “Yes, yes, Cathy’s friend. Have a seat over there.” And she pointed to a
full couch.
I walked over to the
couch and stood awkwardly near it. The woman were all chatting and I realized
they all must have known each other from the inner circles. It dawned on me
that I would not get this job. I had only gotten the interview due to Cathy,
probably begging for it. I felt
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