The Executive Deception

I woke up that particular morning, feeling unusually lazy. I had a long night the previous day, after allowing Sarah to persuade me into accompanying her to the club, despite being fully aware that I had an interview scheduled for the next day. I managed to sit up, my head throbbing painfully behind my eyes. Without raising my head, I stretched out my hand to reach for my phone, which I usually kept on the locker beside my bed. Aimlessly tapping my palm around the top of the locker, I felt nothing- and my heart skipped. “Where the hell is my phone?!”, I thought to myself, refusing to believe that my phone was missing. The idea alone was enough to extirpate the persistent urge to go back to sleep, as my eyes widened in alert. I leaped out of bed to commence the search for my phone, but then my eyes met with the clock that hung right above the doorpost. “7:00 AM?!”, I yelled. My interview was supposed to commence at exactly 7:30 AM; and here I was, only now getting out of bed at 7:00 AM. The apartment I lived in was about twenty minutes away from Johas Inc. -the company I had applied to work for- and the only way to make it in time for my interview was for the Almighty to perform a miracle, and a quick one at that. I scurried off to the bathroom to the necessary, and was out in less than five minutes. I won't exactly call what I did in there a shower, but for dignity’s sake, let's just leave it as it is- for I do not intend to have you perceive me as unclean and disorganized. Desperate times, they say, call for desperate measures. I slapped on a pair of jean trousers and a white blouse top, racing downstairs almost immediately. The wait at the bus stop felt like forever, and I had at some point started to wonder if I had become somewhat invisible; my desperation and unease causing beads of sweat to form across my forehead. It was unusually hot that day, and luck was evidently not on my side. Let me, however, not conclude- because my day had only just started, and things were going to turn out differently. At least, that was what I told myself, for the sake of whatever comfort that might offer. A taxi finally pulled up, and I hopped in- without thinking twice. “Take me to Johas Inc.” I said, wiping the bands of sweat that had at this point started to make their way expressly down my neck. “I see you're going for an interview” the driver said, trying to start up a conversation. “Yes!” I shot back quickly; my disinterest clearly evident in my tone. Now, don't blame or judge me for my insolence. I was clearly not thinking straight at that time, my feet tapping loudly against the foot mat. How could he not have realized that it was a bad time to start up a conversation? I'd bet my last penny that you’d react the same exact way if you had been in my shoes. My heart kept pounding heavily in my chest, my mind flooding with thoughts of how I was going to miss the interview, and would have to spend the rest of my life job hunting. “Here you go”, the driver said, announcing that I had reached my destination, and subsequently pulling me out of my thoughts. “Thank you very much, and I'm very sorry about my tone earlier”, I said as I alighted. I dashed off immediately into the building, not caring to wait for his response. I had apologized already, and that’s all that mattered. Entering the building, I looked on in awe as I saw several other workers go about their daily proceedings, completely ignoring my presence. The walls were made from glass, and the building stood impressively tall, comprising 24 floors. The marble floor perfectly reflected the artistically beautified ceiling, embellished with identical round fluorescent bulbs whose golden rims glittered in the light. I gulped heavily, scanning the vicinity for whatever clues I might find, as to what to do next. Just then, my eyes met with those of a young lady seated on the provisional chair in the far-left corner. She looked unkept. Well, not typically unkept, but more or less disorganized and disturbed; pardon my over-exaggeration, but at that point, I couldn't think of any other word to use in describing how she looked. Filled with curiosity, I walked up to her. "Who knows, she might actually help me find my way around here" I thought to myself. That was actually a lie - the kind we tell ourselves when we set out to act in stupidity, in a bid to satisfy our human cravings. A false replication of the truth. The main motive behind me walking up to her was to milk as much information as I could out of her. If you were a curious mind like myself, then you'll most likely be able to relate to how I felt at that moment. As I started to approach her, a female voice called out, "Amber Towerson?" I turned around spontaneously. I mean, anyone would; after all, it was my name that had been called. "That's me" I responded, raising my hand for further indication as I scurried towards her - clutching my handbag to my chest. "You're late; but never mind, the President has just arrived. Follow me", the lady who I'll later get to know as Bella said, beckoning me to tag along as she made her way to the elevator. She had a welcoming presence, and I earnestly wished everyone else I had to meet would turn out like her. She turned her head occasionally as if to reassure herself that I was still following closely; like I was a bird in a cage that would scamper off at the slightest opportunity. I was, however, too occupied in my thoughts to care - thanking my stars that the supposed consequences of my lateness had been averted. I was so lost in thought, that I failed to realize that the elevator had stopped. "We're here" she said, with a warm smile, finally breaking the awkward silence that made our ascent appear much longer than it actually was. Reading the indication on the location indicator, I realized that we were on the 20th floor. I started to feel extremely nervous, a lot of questions running through my head. "Don’t worry. The President won't bite" she spoke once again. Probably sensing my anxiety, she sought to calm me down - at least she tried. But in my opinion, she should have kept her goodwill to herself, for it is under the disguise of goodwill that the most preposterous and mischievous acts of absurdity are committed. That may not have exactly been the case in this scenario, but my experiences are to be blamed the most for my evolved perception. Take note, however, this is not me justifying my irrational discernment- not in the slightest bit. "The President???" I panicked. I had not the slightest idea that I was going to be interviewed by the President himself! The elevator door opened, and our presence was welcomed by several faces all staring in my direction. They didn't try to hide their curiosity, but paying closer attention, I realized that I had read their emotions wrong. It was a look that screamed 'sympathy'- like they were calling out to me in their hearts to turn around and walk away while I still had the chance, while I was still sane enough to do so. The desks were arranged in resemblance to those in a library, having vertical barriers attached to them that isolated each worker's workspace from the others. Each workspace was equipped with a desktop computer, and it wasn't hard to tell that they were put to good use- judging from the clicking and tapping sounds that echoed throughout the office from the keys on the keyboards being struck aggressively. Bella led the way as we walked through, towards the President's office. She knocked on the door thrice and paused, waiting for a response. "Come in" a voice responded from the mini-speaker that was mounted on the wall, right beside the door. She smiled, opening the door and beckoning me to go in- leaving me to my fate. I looked at her sheepishly. I couldn't see how I looked at that moment, but I definitely looked like a lamb being sent off to the s*******r house, never to return.