My Heart Belongs to You {ON HOLD}

Chapter 2

Giving one last look to my CV and its fake job experience, I take a print out before putting it in a transparent file. I re-checked my face in the mirror before going downstairs and leaving a note for mom who had gone to the grocery store. I know, it’s weird but I didn’t want her worry about me since she was mentally weak already.

I left the house, feeling a very positive energy burst through me. It was almost as if I could feel the sun shining through my ass as I took a cab, and that was until I entered into the white sandstone lobby and realized that it was a walk-in interview where there were nearly fifty men and women waiting to be interviewed.

I was screwed.

What the hell was I going to do? I felt my confidence go down the drain and my legs felt wobbly when I went to the receptionist and gave my name.

She smiled, sweetly, typing in on her computer. “Amy Wilson.”

“Yes,” I said, hoping she’d say ‘Lucky you, you’ve already been selected’. Funny, since that would never happen in a million years unless I was some five-star event planner.

“Please, wait. We’ll inform you when your turn comes.”

“Uh…” I hesitated, slightly. “How many people are already waiting for the interview?”

She smiled, again and typed, “Around seventy at the moment.”

“Oh,” I faltered at that thought. I turn around and scan the lobby for an empty space to sit. The whole lobby was practically filled until a man emerged from the lift holding a clipboard and pen and he called out a few names, asking them to follow him. As soon they left, a few places became vacant and I hurriedly went over and sat on the single-white couch before anyone else did.

And waited.

Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like years. It was like waiting for the year 2060 to come. Almost three hours had gone by and I had practically finished going through every magazine that was there. The clipboard man emerged from the lift and kept calling out another fifteen to twenty names. Each time the elevator would open, I would see people coming out looking sad or excited. Some of them probably did get the job and some didn’t. I was worried that I was going to be one of those who wouldn’t get the job.

Finally, he came out and said, “Amy Wilson.”

I literally jumped up from my couch, holding my CV tightly. Now that I was a nervous wreck I realized I didn’t know how the interviewers would be like. Would there be one? Or would there be two? I felt sweat form on my forehead as I followed the clipboard man.

He was a round-short bald man who looked like he was in his thirties. I smiled at him as a way of greeting and he did the same. I and a few others followed him into the elevator which could hold up to twenty-five people max. No wonder he called out more than ten names at a time. Once we all gathered in, he pressed 3 and I felt my breathing quicken. A lady next to me shot me a dirty look but that didn’t help one bit. I was so terrified. I had gone for interviews before and they didn’t turn out so well, over that I had faked my CV--which is bad. Like really bad. If I would get caught, I’m sure they would blacklist me or something.

As soon as the lift stopped on the third floor, we were all ushered out and into a waiting room. Here the interior was slightly differently from the lobby downstairs. Its main color was light grey instead of white. I sat down on an empty chair, feeling my stomach tie itself in knots.

Okay, I should run.

Now that I had finally come up, I couldn’t believe what my mind was suggesting. Run? After waiting for hours, I should run? I was scared, I admit, but I wasn’t going to run. The clipboard man kept calling names after every five minutes and I couldn’t help but look through the glassed walls that surrounded the waiting room, at the ones who had already finished the interview. Some looked really anxious and some really very sad. There were a few who looked happy. Only a few, I noted.