My room looked like a tornado had passed through it. Clothes were tossed across the chair, the contents of my purse spilled out in chaotic disarray on the dresser, and I was pacing the floor like I had somewhere important to be in just five minutes. I’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, flipping my pillow, staring at the ceiling like the answer was written up there somewhere. My anxious mind was spiraling through an endless loop of imaginary interview questions, potential scenarios, and worst-case nightmares, all for a job I didn’t fully even understand.
“What would you even say?” I muttered to myself, the question echoing in the hollow space of my mind.
I stopped in front of the mirror, running my fingers down the front of my shirt to smooth out the wrinkles, pretending that someone was actually seated across from me.
“Ajori, why should we hire you?”
I cleared my throat and gathered my thoughts. “Well… because my little brother needs a heart transplant, I’m broke, life keeps kicking my ass, and I’m desperate enough to try something new.” I stared at my reflection for a heartbeat before shaking my head, dismissively waving my hand in the air as if I could erase the words I had just spoken.
“Yeah… that response definitely wouldn’t land me the job.”
These days, companies aren’t interested in hearing about your struggles; they only care about what value you bring to the table, whether you show up on time, keep your mouth shut, and make their lives easier.
I rubbed my face in frustration and tried again, this time standing a little taller and projecting more confidence.
“Because I’m dependable. I show up when I’m supposed to, I don’t panic under pressure, and I finish what I start. I’m the type of person who finds solutions instead of making excuses. If something needs to get done, you won’t have to chase me to do it.”
I paused, studying my reflection with newfound conviction.
“That actually sounded kinda good.” Then I squinted at myself. “Look at you… sounding employable and everything.”
But then a sigh escaped me, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.
I walked over and flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in despair.
What am I doing? He told me it wouldn’t be a regular interview. For all I know, it might not even be an interview at all. It could be one of those strange pyramid schemes or “blink twice if you need help” situations that end up on the evening news.
That thought lodged itself heavy and uncomfortable in my chest.
I groaned and rolled over. “Nah. I need outside opinions.”
Since Kyrin was at school and I had the day off, I grabbed my keys and headed to Lainey’s place. We had spoken again since I’d hung up on her the day before, but it was only briefly since one of her "boo thangs" stopped by." But I knew if anyone could offer some clarity—or at least a good dose of sense—it was her.
Upon reaching her apartment, I noticed one of her hair clients stepping out. The girl was rocking some fresh braids that danced down her back. Her satisfied smile suggested a great transformation. I offered her a quick smile in return as I stepped inside.
Lainey was sweeping up hair clippings near her chair. When she spotted me, a wide grin broke on her face. “Hey, boo!”
I exhaled dramatically, sinking into the couch like a weary traveler. “Hey, girl.”
She squinted at me immediately, concern lacing her features. “Uh-oh. That’s the exact same look you had when your mama ‘accidentally’ put that cable bill in your name.”
“This is probably worse.” I mumbled.
Lainey leaned the broom against the wall and walked over, plopping down beside me.
“What’s wrong now, boo?”
I hesitated for a second, then I reached into my purse, pulled out the black business card, and held it out to her.
She accepted it slowly, her brow furrowing as she studied it. “What’s this?”
I sat up a little straighter and gave her a brief summary of my encounter with Marcos, our intriguing conversation, and the mysterious job offer that had left me feeling equal parts hopeful and terrified.
Lainey’s eyebrows arched higher with each revelation, and when I finished talking, she stared at me in silence for a long moment before leaning back and whistling softly.
“Girl, I thought we were about to vent about a new love interest, or how somebody at yo' job had you fucked up again. So let me get this straight. Some random man hopped in your car, offered you a job, and now you’re telling me you could be rich, relocated, and rebranded in under six months?”
“I wouldn’t sayrich… but yeah.” I shrugged, like it didn’t sound just as crazy coming out of my mouth.