Bubbles (1)

- "So, why do you want to work with us?”

Oh, for fucks sake, not again.

Amina had spent the previous night huddled inside an overly cold train wagon to get here. She had the precious company of a middle aged man with a snoring problem, a young man who made himself too comfortable on his seat, showing off his mismatched (and not exactly pleasantly perfumed) socks, and the train steward who would show up every half hour to make sure their tickets didn’t magically disappear.

Needless to say, she didn’t get an ounce of sleep last night.

Her mood was therefore, slightly irritable. She found herself very short of patience, especially since this was, after all, a minimum wage job.

- “A crippling fear of homelessness.

- I beg your pardon?

- Money. I need money.”

The person sitting in front of her was an aging lady, maybe in her late fifties. She wore huge reading glasses, a light blue headscarf, and a courteous half smile. Upon hearing her answer, she shifted into her seat, with an amused look on her face.

- “I see. But why us in particular?

Don’t flatter yourself. You’re my tenth interview this week.

- Honestly, you weren’t exactly my first choice. But I think I’m qualified for the job.”

The interviewer smiled again. Why did it look like she was having a very nice time?

- “Miss Nasri, are you aware of what our company does?

- You make soap.”

Amina had skimmed through the company’s website while in the waiting room. Five paragraphs of utter bullshit that could have simply been replaced by “We make soap” and conveyed the exact same meaning.

The interviewer chuckled lightly.

- “That is correct. We do indeed make soap.”

She let a moment pass before asking:

- “You mentioned that you believed you were qualified for this post. Could you elaborate on that?”

Amina had to refrain from letting out an exasperated sigh.

What’s the point of having me write a resume if you’re not even going to read it?

“- Ma’am, I am a nuclear physicist. I learned how to make soap during my sophomore year.”

The woman with the reading glasses gave her a curious glance, before skimming through a bunch of papers in her desk and pulling one out. A minute passed in silence.

-          Miss Nasri, you are aware that this is a minimum wage position for a laboratory technician, correct?

She grimaced. She was very aware of that.

-          I am.

-          Forgive me for prying, but you are very overqualified for this position. Why not seek out opportunities within your field of expertise?

-          I would, but as you know, we don’t have any nuclear facilities in this country.

-          … So, why did you…

-          I wasn’t planning on staying.

-          And how about other…

-          As a said, you weren’t really my first choice. I didn’t have a lot of luck with my interviews so far.

The interviewer was having the time of her life.

-          I think I may have an idea on why that is.

She checked her resume one more time, then cleared her throat.

-          Miss Nasri, I don’t think I could in good conscience hire you for this position. 

Great, thanks for nothing.

 Amina got up and got ready to leave.

-          Thanks for your time.

-          We do however, have a position vacant for head of operations within one of our laboratories. The salary is much more attractive. Would that interest you?

For a second, Amina forgot how to form words. She stared at her, speechless. The interviewer gave her a kind smile.

-          May I take that as a yes?

-          I… yeah, of course. I’d be very interested.

-          Great! I’ll send you the details by email. Would you be available by the start of next month?

Amina gave her a nervous nod. What the fuck was happening here?

The interviewer got up, smiled warmly at her and extended her hand

-          “Thanks a lot for stopping by, Amina.”

Amina wordlessly shook her hand, then awkwardly headed for the door. She stood by the doorway, physically incapable of leaving. She turned back on her heels.

- “Ma’am, I’m sorry but I have to know. I am very grateful, of course, but, why would you?”

 The woman took off her reading glasses and gave her a considerate look.

-“I have to admit that it’s a selfish reason, my dear, but you remind me of someone."

 

Part 2 

 


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