She stepped into the reception area quite clumsily in an effort to dodge any raindrops that may soil her over worn suite. As she shook her umbrella, she was extremely aware of the eyes from behind the desk that summed her up into quite a small unit. However, she chose not to be intimidated.
Squaring her small shoulders and patting her rather thick hair down absently, she matched up to the desk, a charming smile coated her faintly glossed lips.
“Good morning, madam,” she managed politely and stated her reason for her call that morning. the receptionist raised her exquisitely cut brows, glanced at her boredly in one sweeping glance and languidly, as if not to mess her freshly manicured nails, picked the phone and placed a call to her boss.
Anne did not burge, she had met many receptionists and secretaries like this before, snobbish and without a trace of customer care. She had heard rumours that most times they were sleeping with the boss and a new girl, better looking than them would pose a real threat. She was determined not to be ousted if she finally got this job. she’d looked around for far too many, gone for numerous interviews only to have them make her unfulfilled promises or worse still hound her down for dinner, coffee and sex eventually. She was sick of it all.
“You can go in,” the receptionist’s voice was lazy as she made another sweeping with her hand to the door she should go through. Anne walked to the door warily and knocked, then turned the doorknob to usher herself into a plush spacious office. The scent in the room was a blend of some masculine perfume-designer, she supposed- mingled with the faint odour of polished furniture. Her eyes fell on the huge man behind the desk.
“Come in, come in,” he urged her in a faint British accent, without looking up. She imagined he had been brought up in a well to do family that had spent most of his early years abroad and now Britain was oozing out of him. “Please have a seat,” he added, still not looking up.
“Thank you,” Anne replied carefullyseating herself in the chair in front of his desk. finally, he looked up and seemed for a fleeting moment to pause as if studying her then quickly address her. “I’ve been looking through your CV and it is very impressive, I must say…” she nodded, made a few comments accordingly throughout the whole assessment but was oddly aware of the fact that his eyes seemed to roam over her in an unusual manner. It made her feel almost naked.
Suddenly, he asked her something that got her suspicious and guarded. “Are you seeing someone?”
She frowned, “my CV states my status, sir”
“Yes, it says single but single could mean attached” as he clasped his hands together, her eyes caught the sparkle of a wedding band on his marriage finger. She raised her brow slightly; deeply disappointed that this was yet another of them men that felt they could get favours in exchange for a job. She pitied the woman that was bound to him in matrimony.
“I am single, sir,” she stubbornly stated with a finality in her voice. He seemed slightly daunted but covered it up.
“Well,” he sighed, “you do have all the qualities this firm needs and also the fact that you’re single is an added advantage. You see, there will be a number of out of Kampala engagements and being attached would make it pretty hard for you.”
He paused slyly, “if you have any questions, please…” he trailed off.
“No sir,” she replied, looking back at him.
He smiled faintly, “well, then…” he stood up and walked round to her. In his hand, he held a small paper… his business card. “There is more we need to discuss but I am held up now, what about later on today over coffee, hmm?”
She frowned deeper, “I…I thought we had discussed everything?”
“Yes, almost…” he remarked as though tired of her incessant defiant remarks. “Nevertheless, there is some more I need to discuss with you. Coffee or dinner?” he asked unashamedly handing her the card.
She cleared her throat, now sure, where this was heading. “I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t have much time, about ten hours. Do call me at lunch and let me know.” he added. She stood up “thank you sir for your time.
“You’re welcome. Do call and call me Mike, drop the ‘sir’ formality, it makes me feel old” he humored. She pursed her lips.
“Have a good day,” he continued charmingly, leading her to the door, “a pretty girl like you deserves one.”
Utterly disgusted, she almost run out of the firm. Tears welled up in her eyes as the whole episode replayed in her mind.
Her heart sunk and broke for his wife and herself. She ripped the card in her hand into many pieces as she had done many times before, thinking how nice it would have been to be an assistant in such a place, but not at such a price. Pangs of sadness, remorse and regret jabbed at her, was this the fate of every job seeker?
