Armageddon

IV

I apply my makeup a little more professionally in preparation of my job interview. After a lot of freaking out and a long, restless night, I decided on a little black dress and pumps.

This is my first real job in forever, and I can't afford to mess this shit up.

Maybe the first step would be to stop referring to it as 'this shit.'

My mobile buzzes on the bed and I dash to retrieve it.

Edward:

I dnt get it, bt ok.

gud luck. luv u.

thank you for getting me this job

I make my way out. I will clean my room. One day.

Getting a job interview has become so difficult nowadays, let alone a job offer, that I feel like if I drive too slowly, I will wake up to find that this is all a dream. It's okay. 75 is the same as 70.

I'll just drive at 65 miles per hour on the way back.

Traffic starts piling once I enter the CBD. Skyscrapers tower over me, and I get perspective on just how small I am. The people sharing the road with me - completely focussed on their own business - makes me realise just what a small detail to the earth I am.

How can a tiny detail build anything worthwhile?

Being stuck in traffic sucks, but it reminds me that I'm doing something - finally! In about an hour, I make it to my destination, and I park on the spot closest to the entrance so I don't have to walk too far when I have to leave - especially if I screw things up and need to cry.

After stealing a final look in the mirror and pushing a few strands back into place, I grab my purse and step out. Standing before me is an endless, towering pillar consisting of glass. Unlike the other buildings I've passed as I made my way here, the façade doesn't intimidate me much. What intimidates me is the knowledge that my fate lies just behind those glass walls.

Glass is such a fragile material, and at this exact moment, it holds my future. A single slip up, and the contents are on the floor and can't be picked up.

Failing means yer playin!

Taking a deep breath, I shake off all thoughts of self-doubt: I deserve this. I make my way to the entrance, and I'm surprised that it's not as busy as I'd thought it would be. I'd imagined that everyone would be stumbling around with stacks of papers, one would drop theirs and I'd help them pick it up, everyone likes me, and I get the job.

But it's not like that. At all.

The reception is mostly vacant, with only the middle-aged receptionist behind a circular, dark brown desk with a marble top talking to a middle-aged man in a crisp suit, his hair shiny with hair gel. And then there's one lady with her head buried in an iPad walking hurriedly to a passage.

Well, I guess she won't be dropping any stacks of papers.

The receptionist hushes her mate as I start approaching and she purses her lips - probably to stop herself from laughing.

I probably look like a clown right now.

"Hi," I manage to squeak when I make it to the desk.

"Hi," she responds sweetly.

"I'm Elisabeth Brown. I got offered a Public Relations job here?"

Relax Edgar! They already like you.

"Oh! We've been expecting you. Please take a seat at the couch over there and someone will get to you quickly."

I take a seat and take in my surroundings: oversized steel pillars hold the walls up, going all the way to the heavens. Black polished concrete covers the floors and glimmers in reflection of the sunlight pouring through the walls. There is a certain coolness inside which shouldn't be possible as we're essentially in a large magnifying glass. The space is almost under-utilised with only the receptionist's desk, this couch and coffee table and a few potted plants.