After Hours

It's been a few weeks in the city and Alana finally landed an interview with one of the biggest real estate companies in Atlanta. She is scrambling around the house that was once her aunt's, whom she hasn't seen since she was a kid. After finding out she had inherited the small home, she had gone straight to a bus stop and left. Literally coming to this town with nothing, she makes due with her dead aunt's limited and outdated wardrobe. This was the only time she regretted leaving without collecting a few of her belongings. But she couldn't risk him finding out. She settles on an olive green dress that is a couple of sizes too big and a beige button down sweater. Accompanied with a pair of impractical brown low heels. Hearing the honk of the taxi from outside , she grabs her bag and makes a run for the door. Alana's eyes dart around the residential neighborhood out of habit. It didn't matter where she was. She could never be too cautious. Never letting her guard down. After hopping in and spitting out directions to the driver, Alana twists her unruly damp hair into a messy bun. The ride ends too soon, stepping out into the street. There is a building at least ten stories high. Kingston Real Estate I big blue letters above the entrance. She approaches the front desk attendant. More than a little apprehensive after seeing how nicely she was dressed. She assesses her attire before plastering on a fake smile. "Can I help you?" "Umm...yes. I'm Alana Harris. They are expecting me for an interview at three." She glances at the clock on the wall next to the desk the numbers 3:07 mocking her in bold black font. "Housekeeping is on the ground floor. Just go down the hall..." "Actually, I am here for the interview for Mr. Kingston's personal secretary." She picks up the phone. Speaking lowly to someone on the other end of the receiver. Still eyeing Alana with a great deal of skepticism and disdain. "Go up to the eighth floor. They're holding interviews in the conference room to the right. If you get lost, just look for all of the well dressed people in the waiting area." And doesn't forget to leave out a sarcastic good luck as she walks away. Alana I am still seething over the smart mouthed woman at the front desk. I'm silently cursing myself for my tardiness as the elevator door slams shut. I grab ahold of the railing and squeeze my eyes shut and my stomach drops into my asshole as it ascends to the top floor of the building. Stepping off the elevator, I am immediately uncomfortable. To say I was underdessed was not an understatement. Most of the women here were in their early twenties or looked like they should still be on high school. I think I saw less skin in a porno. What the hell had I gotten myself into? At twenty-seven, I feel at a disadvantage. I'm definitely showing my age. Taking a seat next to a young girl with more legs than a bucket of fried chicken, I wait. Minutes tick by, I watch as the women are called in, one at a time. Then an hour passes. I finally get frustrated after watching the cake faced Barbie doll sitting across from me reapply her makeup for the fourth time. I stand to leave, when suddenly, the door on the other end of the room opens and I hear my name being called. "Alana Harris". She shakes her head as she sees me approach. The harsh faced older woman doesn't even try to hide her scowl. I am led to a room with a long table in the center. Three people on one side and me on the other. I feel like the scene is more appropriate for a TV show for a talent search. There is even a camera pointed at the chair that I am directed to sit in. "Please have a seat, Ms. Harris. Did you bring a resume?" I pull the sheets of papers from my bag and hand them to the man, before sitting in the chair. They are collectively looking at the papers and whispering to one another. Not even acknowledging me. One starts to type furiously on their cell phone. I try to clear my throat to gain some kind of attention. I end up in a coughing fit. This couldn't be any more akward. They all look up at me for a second. I guess when they figured since I wasn't going to die, they resume their chit chat amongst their own little group. This is too weird. I stand to leave. "Well, if you aren't needing anything else from me..." The phone in the man's hand bings. He glances down for a second before raising his eyes to meet mine for the first time. "You're hired." What the actual hell is going on?! "Umm.. okay?" "We checked your references and your work history, a bit short term, but still impressive. See Angela for your paperwork." And just like that, I was dismissed. Devon I am overly irritable. This is day three of the freak show. I have watch so many pasty faced girls in miniskirts parade through my lobby in the last few days. None of them have the qualifications to run a pencil sharpener. Much less my business affairs. It had gotten so bad, I had a camera put on the conference room and I watched the interviews through my computer screen and communicated via text. Down to the last few interviews, I see Ms. Harris walk in. She is actually fully clothed. From last century, but at this point, I will take whatever I can get. Text message start coming in. References: good Work history: short term Work history: Stratton Law Firm Work history: Clifton Industries I get on my computer and run background check on the girl. Twenty seven years old... Excuse me...woman. I watch her fidgeting on the chair, uncomfortable, and obviously annoyed. Then stands up and heads for the door. I quickly tap out a reply on my cell: hire her.