REJECTED

"Ladies and gentlemen, the boss is now set to begin the interview. We are starting with the one who came in first and we will follow that order until the last one, so please go back to your initial positions." The receptionist instructs, and I am glad her voice came at the perfect moment to save this bitch from my wrath.


"I will wait for you outside the gate so we can catch up, okay?" Grace says as she stands up to go back to her spot, and I have no choice but to nod my head.

"Alright. I suggest we observe silence from now on. Miss, follow me." The receptionist says this as the lady, who I suppose was first to arrive, wakes up and trails behind her.

The rest of us are left to hope for our nearly unattainable dreams while crossing our fingers. Sincerely, I'm starting to think that this is impossible. What characteristics, specifically, will set this applicant apart from the other nineteen? My heart is beginning to race.


When my phone buzzes in my bag, I take it out. I turned my phone on this morning. I think turning off my phone is pointless if my father is desperate to find me since he was able to freeze my accounts. With the exception of the calls I erased within the first three days after I left, I'll wait for his call. I'm going to face him if he calls or comes looking for me.

Taking out my phone, I read the message from Damian. I texted him with my number this morning so he wouldn't fret. He worries and cares way too much, honestly.


How are you doing? Are you through with the interview? If not, once again, good luck! Damian.

How sweet! The wishes started last night when we were together and continued in the morning until now. For the third time, I text him a thank you and state that I am in the queue. I wish he could know how hopeless I feel right now.

I didn't realize how fast time had flown until I heard the receptionist call my name, making me realise that I was the only one left in the hall. Talk of zoning out!

As I clutch onto my purse, a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through me, I trail behind the lady who graciously guided me out of the bustling hall. With every step, anticipation builds, and my mind races with thoughts about the impending interview. We arrive at a door just across the hall, and with a firm knock, a deep voice resonates from within. The lady holds the door open for me.

Stepping into the room, the air feels charged with an unnerving combo as I take in the sight of the grey-haired man seated confidently behind the table. His presence commands attention, and I can't help but notice the subtle tilt of his glasses, perched securely on the bridge of his nose, his eyes peering at me from just above the frames. What are the work glasses again?

Before I can dwell further on the matter, the lady whispers a heartfelt "good luck" before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with the grey-haired interviewer. With a deep breath, I center myself, ready to face whatever questions he has for me.

"Good morning, sir," I greet him, walking over to his table.

"Morning. Sit down, miss Riccaford."

Fear overtakes me. The tone when my last name is mentioned makes me think there must be a reason. Nevertheless, I take a seat in the swivel chair opposite him and look him in the eyes.

He looks at my resume for second, then speaks, saying everything as if my resume is inscribed in his old brain. "A degree in marketing. Two years experience in the most successful hotel chain in this country. Led a group of thirty marketers. Impressive!! But unfortunately, you are still the head of the marketing department at the Riccas hotel chain," He takes off his glasses and leans back in his seat.

I frown. The last part isn't included in my cv. How did he know?

"I take it upon myself to do a background check on the people I get to employ, Miss Riccaford. I called your supposed previous office, and it turns out that you didn't resign. Is that correct?"

Shit!

"Yes, sir. But..."

He cuts me off by raising his hand at me."I will admit that I would love no one else's services in my hotel than yours, but until you are completely free and clear from your former job, I'm sorry, I cannot accept you. I'm too old to handle this kind of drama."

"But, sir, I promise..."

"Good day, Miss Riccaford! I'll keep this post for you for two days, only if you can bring me a valid recommendation letter signed by your father."

Idiotic old man!

I summon my courage, stand on my feet, and walk out without even saying goodbye to the old man. What possibly can I say? Perhaps he spoke directly to my father, and he already knows there is no way I can get the fucking letter.

I must have underestimated how powerful my father is. He just won't leave me be. He wasn't content with leaving me penniless, but he is making sure I don't get hired either. He is closing all my chances of survival one by one, but I'm never giving up.

"Hey! You don't look okay!"

This Grace chick again! I thought she forgot about the catching up shit and went straight home. I am not at all in the mood for this right now. I have an overflowing cup of problems to deal with. I have no time for leisure at all. And just what can she and I talk about anyway?

Jeez!

"Are you okay?" She asks, and I sigh.

The term "okay" doesn't seem to be showing up in my vocabulary any time soon, all thanks to that old dictator I call father.