Of All People,It's You

TOP THREE

I force myself to breathe and start reading the email properly.

**Boisnoir Building Supplies**

*Human Resources Department*

**Applicant ID:** 09043

**Stage 2 Assessment Score:** 75% *(Status: PASS)*

Dear Miss Diane Ellis,

Congratulations on progressing to the final stage of our recruitment process.

Out of fifty candidates in this round, only the top ten who achieved the 75% cut-off mark have been invited to our Head Office today for a mandatory final practical assessment.

You are required to attend our Head Office today at 4:00 p.m. prompt. Attendance is compulsory. Candidates who fail to attend will automatically forfeit their application.

*HR*

Seventy-five percent. Exactly the pass mark. If surviving by the skin of my teeth was an Olympic sport, I'd have a gold medal.

But another interview? Today?

You've got to be kidding me."

I stare at the screen in disbelief. I'm not prepared.

Nobody said anything about another interview.

And I'm competing against the top ten highest scorers?

For the biggest construction company in Manchester, they sure are unpredictably sloppy with their timing.

A car horn sounds beside me. My Uber.

I let out a sigh. There is no turning back now.

I climb into the back seat, my stomach churning as the car pulls into traffic.

Working as an executive secretary at Boisnoir Building Supplies isn't just another job.

It's *the* job.

I earned my degree in Business Administration, graduated with honors, completed an internship in Birmingham, and moved to Manchester hoping for something bigger.

And this is my something bigger. My big break. I just hope my 75% is enough to survive.

The driver clears his throat. "We're here."

I look out the window and literally forget how to breathe.

Boisnoir Building Supplies doesn't look like a company; it looks like money. A sleek glass building rises into the Manchester skyline. Employees in tailored suits move in and out with absolute purpose. Good thing I changed out of my café uniform. I smooth down my blazer, straighten my shoulders, and step inside.

The reception area leads me straight to a private executive waiting room.

The same place we wrote the assessment test. It gives me the chills.

There are no fifty people here. Just nine other candidates, each dressed as though they're about to interview for Parliament.

On the wall, a projector displays the final leaderboard.

My eyes dart to the bottom.

*09043 — 75%*

The people above me have scores like 88%, 85%, and 82%. I am officially the underdog, barely hanging on.

I sink into a chair, clutching my handbag like my career depends on it.

The receptionist smiles politely. "Good afternoon. Congratulations on reaching this stage applicants. We'll be calling you into the assessment room one at a time."

One after another, candidates are called. Each person disappears through a heavy oak door and returns only a few minutes later wearing the exact same confused expression. No smiles, no disappointment. Just total confusion.

When my turn comes, I smooth down my blazer and walk in, only to stop dead in my tracks.

The room is completely empty. No one is there.

It's just a desk with a chair, and corporate files scattered absolutely everywhere. Loose papers flutter across the table every time the standing fan turns.

Am i going to be transferred to another room or what ? I didn't even know they were this disorganized in BBS. This room's a mess.

I wait. Thirty seconds. A minute. Still nothing.

I glance around. Okay who leaves paperwork like this? No paperweight really? One particularly stubborn sheet slides off the edge and onto the floor. With a sigh, I crouch to pick it up. Then another. And another.

Before I know it, I'm stacking the files neatly, straightening the folders, and placing a thick reference book over the loose papers to stop the fan from sending them flying again.

"There." Much better.

I take my seat and wait. Over three minutes pass. Did they forget I exist?

Finally, I step back outside. "Um... excuse me?"

The receptionist looks up from her desk. "Oh! Miss Diane Ellis. Sorry to keep you waiting. Please return to the waiting area. We'll announce the shortlist shortly."

That's it. Well, that is five minutes of my life I'll never get back.

Ten minutes later, the receptionist enters our waiting room carrying three folders. Every conversation stops.

"The assessment has now concluded," she announces. "The assessment wasn't the room itself. It was what you chose to do inside it. Attention to detail and initiative are qualities we value highly. We are pleased to announce the three candidates proceeding to the final panel interview."

She reads the first two names. Then—

"Diane Ellis."

I stand so quickly my chair nearly tips over.

A girl beside me lets out a quiet groan.

"...That was a test?"

I blink. You've got to be kidding me.

I tidied the room because the mess was driving me insane, not because I thought anyone was watching!

The remaining candidates quietly gather their things and leave. Then, there are only three of us left. Three chairs. Three futures hanging in the balance.

"Everyone, follow me please."

Oh I wipe my slightly sweaty palms against my trousers and follow the HR assistant down a quiet corridor. This is it.

The assistant stops outside a pair of large wooden doors. "You may go in."

I take one deep breath before pushing the doors open.

Please, God. I've made it this far…..let this be the one.

The room is intimidating. A long, polished table stretches across the center, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Two members of the interview panel are already seated.

A woman with silver-framed glasses looks up first. "Good afternoon. I'm Mrs. Eleanor Hayes, Head of Human Resources."

The gentleman beside her nods. "And I'm Mr. Richard Donald, Director of Operations."

I greet them both, standing awkwardly by my chair.

Mrs. Hayes glances at the clock. "We'll begin as soon as Mr. William arrives."

The room falls into a heavy silence. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. We all sit awkwardly in our chairs, staring at the blank wall.

Honestly, the way this company structures things makes zero sense.

First, they schedule an interview out of nowhere in the evening. Then, they trap us in a messy room as a secret test. And now, they're keeping an already-panicking applicant waiting. Who is this Mr. William guy anyway? Does he think my anxiety needs a warm-up period?

Just as I'm about to start aggressively tapping my foot, the heavy doors click open.

He instantly commands the room. He is tall, effortlessly sharp, and wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit.

The other two interviewers immediately stand up, giving a polite little bow. "Welcome, Mr. William," they say in unison, stepping forward to shake his hand.

I stay frozen by my chair, watching him from the side. There is something terrifyingly familiar about his posture.

He turns to face the table, adjusting his cuffs. "My apologies for keeping you all waiting," his deep, smooth voice echoes through the silent room. "I am William Garrett, the Project Director here."

The words replayed in my head.

*William Garrett.*

Urghh not again. I'm officially sick of Garretts.

And right at that exact second, his intense green eyes sweep across the room and lock dead onto mine.

​I drop my head down so fast I almost give myself whiplash, staring intently at my own knees.

​I'm so dead. This cannot be happening.

​Of all people... it’s him, the human statue.