You're My Goldrush

The Interview

As you waited for your turn, you stared at all the nervous 20 something girls lined up with you in the hallway. They all looked good. It made you a little insecure, to a point that you had to use the academic excellence card in your brain to prove your worth. This has always been your weapon of choice. You were never the exquisitely beautiful woman in the room, but you're awfully smart. When it was your turn, you tried to straighten your blazer, bring the briefcase you were carrying in front of you and tried to walk straight to Ms. Venable's office. Now, reading the name Wilhemina Venable on the email you received made you envision a woman so sophisticated, but the real Ms. Venable was 10 times the sophistication that you have been imagining. Purple fits her perfectly. Her red hair and glasses accentuates the fierceness in her eyes. Ms. Venable looked at you up and down. It was rather intimidating but you did not let it get into your nerves, and you try to calm down and be as professional as possible.

"Will you sit down or do you want me to call the previous interviewee who seems to be not just absolutely incapable but surprisingly have the nerve to step foot in this company, let alone waste my time interviewing her to push you down on the chair?" Ms. Venable sarcastically adressed you without even looking at you. Her eyes were fixed on the documents on her desk, and you recognize your picture. It was your file she was looking at.

"I will sit. Thank you." You said very nervously. You learned once from one of your mentors in highschool that the best way to close a deal is through a handshake and eye contact. This time, you lack both. Hand shake was a NO-NO, you presumed based on Ms. Venable's demeanor, and eye contact was not for certain since the redhead's eyes were glued on your resumé.

"So....." Miss Venable begins. Only this time, she's got up from her chair, put one hand on her cane while the other was flat on the table, and she was towering you, looking straight into your eyes.

"You're a valedictorian in primary school, high school, and a Magna Cum Laude in college. Head of the school paper, a campus journalist both high school and college. Tell me, Ms..." she tries to scuffle the paper on the desk to see your last name.

"Ms. Y/L/N, what can a boring and insignificant bookworm in the likes of you bring into this company? It's obvious that you yourself don't use sex toys. What made you want to apply for a job here?"

You stiffened as you listen to the stinging criticism coming from Ms. Venable's mouth. You wanted to correct her. You wanted to say that you're not boring, or insignificant, and you're way more than just a bookworm, but you needed a job. And you want this job. Especially now that your dignity is being tested.

"Anything. I'm hardworking, and unlike the previous applicant that came here that you branded as incapable, I am very much capable. I'm smart, and I can adjust in a work set up quickly. Yes, I'm not fond of sex toys but I do know how they work and I know a huge population that can be added to your target market. It will boost the sales of this company, if, and only if you hire the right staff. And in this case, I believe I am a perfect addition to that." You tried to sound as confident as you could, even though wells of tears are already dying to come out from your tearducts. But you managed, you looked at Ms. Venable straight in the eyes while you said all those things.

"Well then, you can start working tomorrow. I expect no less than excellence from you, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to Kineros Inc." Ms. Venable uttered, then she gave her hand for you to shake.

You stood up, and thanked Ms. Venable, not breaking the eye contact. Now you've got two. Handshake and eye contact, and the deal is closed. You never thought the interview would be that easy, but you could swear, the first 2 weeks working in the company was hell on earth, and you have never been more mistreated than ever. You submitted a resignation letter to Ms. Venable, specifying that you wanted it to be effective immediately. You could not afford to submit a 2 weeks notice, you couldn't last a day more in that hell hole full of sex dolls and cocaine. You just couldn't.