Being Aya

what's normal anyway

I am literal black excellence... like come on! I take all AP classes and pass them with no problem. My hair goes down my back now, which many said would never happen! I am at the top of my debate class! I am the captain actually. Not only that, but I am an artist!

I'm currently wondering how I'm supposed to put this all on paper. The job application doesn't have that much space in the box. And plus, wouldn't the manager think that I wouldn't have time for the actual job because I am so successfully busy??

I know, you guys probably think I'm a narcissistic egomaniac, but the things I say can most likely be backed. Besides, I believe I can say this with the hard work I've put forward.

I'm Aya by the way. Aya Lewis.

I bet you thought my last name would've been something exotic, but no. My mom, Julie Lewis, took those rights.

She married my dad, Kioko Yoruba. We live in Arlington, Texas. This must sound so random.

"AYA?! AYA LEWIS?!" my name was yelled across the McDonalds I currently was at an interview for. I got up and headed to the cashier counter where the women with her headphones on could see me. She gave me a blank stare at first sight.

"I thought you'd be a girl."

"Sorry" I said for no reason.

"What are you sorry for son? Ain't nothing to be sorry for. Your moms just gave you a girly sounding name. Nothing more. Anyways, Mr. Allen will be with you in like 5 minutes, he back there on a call." she said as she headed back to her window.

"Thanks!!"

I quickly headed back to my seat to finish filling out my application.

• • •

Mr. Allen was a tall sleek man that had black slacks and a navy blue button down that differed from the rest of his workers. He had an awkward dirty pair of Sketchers on. I quickly noticed why when I had seen the floor behind the counter. I wouldn't want to wear a good pair of shoes either.

He came out of a door that was on the side of the cashier counter area and lead me into the back where all the magic had happened. Behind the dish washing station was an office the had a glass window and a large wooden desk that had a bunch of scratches on it.

"Hello Aya! Please sit."

His voice was very light. He had a slight feminine tone that I vaguely recognize because, well I'm gay!

"Okay so on your application it says that you can't work Tuesdays. Any specific reason?"

"Tuesday's are for me to catch up on work that I may not be able to do ahead of time."

They weren't, but he didn't know that.

"Why do you want this job?"

This has to be the stupidest question. Isn't it obvious?? I'm broke and 18!

"I believe this job will enable me to work with others so that I am well prepared to do the same in a more professional field."

See how I ate that?? I know. I know.

"What are some things that make you a better applicant for this job than others?"

Now this question took me a little time. Comparing myself to other people has always been a challenge because I know that sometimes I come off narcissistic, but I don't want to be at least. I wanted to answer without putting anyone else down and giving an ultra-positive answer.