Spy Of My Life

Chapter Four

(Flashback)

As I climb the stairs, my mind keeps on repeating the same sentence over and over again: “Your visa will expire soon. This might be your last chance!”

I reach the end of the stairs and open the big glass door in front of me. I look around, and find the reception on my left and the waiting area on my right. I go left to find a tiny blonde lady with a big smile behind a desk. The nametag says “Brittany”.

“- Good morning miss, what can I do for you today?

- Hi, hello! I’m here for an interview.

- And your name is…?

- Oh, I’m sorry! My name is Sofia Ameen.

-Okay Miss Ameen, please wait over there. I’ll call your name once they’re ready for you.”

I walk to the waiting area, and notice a few other people sitting on chairs. The only available seats are on a sleek white couch that looks like it could easily break. Now it makes sense why they’re all sitting on chairs that look way too uncomfortable for a human being. I seat slowly and carefully and let a sigh once I’m situated thanking the lord I didn’t break this expensive-looking couch!

I start going over the job description in my head, while trying to pump myself:

“Sofia, you’re a confident, smart, good looking, and competent young woman. They’re going to fall in love with you. Just say everything just the way we rehearsed. Don’t talk too fast, keep a smile on but don’t overdo it. Just be honest. Honesty is the best policy!”

As I begin feeling a tiny bit of confidence, I hear Blonde Brittany calling for me: “Miss Ameen, it’s your turn! Please go straight ahead. The interview room is on your left at the end of the hall. Marcus, would you be so kind to open the door for Miss Ameen?”

I mumble a thank you and go straight for the door, where a security guard opens it with a keycard. He shows me the way with his hand and whispers “good luck miss”. I turn around and give him a polite smile and turn back to go through the hall. The walls are white with stripes of blue and red. I pass a big glass and look at my reflection to see my undisciplined brown curls taking over my face. I didn’t have time to straighten my hair this morning, but at least my clothes are business smart. Let’s just hope that my hair wouldn’t be an issue today.

I reach the end of the hall and find a blue door, and on it is written: Interview Room 4. I knock and hear “Come in!” and open the door.

I find two people, a woman and a man sitting next to each other behind a long pine wood table, with a chair in front of them.

“- Hello, my name is Sofia Ameen. I’m here for the assistant interview.

- Yes Miss Ameen. Please take a seat.”

I go right for the chair, put my bag on the floor, cross one foot behind the other and put my hands on my knees. I look up and smile, waiting for instructions.

The woman looks a bit old, maybe in her fifties. She has short blond hair and she wears glasses. She’s wearing a burgundy business dress and black high heels. Her makeup is not too subtle, scarlet red lipstick, blue eye shadow, thick eye lashes and eye brows, and heavy pink blush. Her cleavage is not too subtle either. She gives me this frowning look. I don’t want to seem judgmental, but she doesn’t really look like a nice person.

The man next to her is wearing a white shirt with sky-blue stripes, brown pants and beige shoes. He’s wearing a silver Rolex, a black wrist band and a thin chain on his neck.

The woman starts speaking first: “My name is Samantha Bradford. I will be the HR representative for this interview. And to my left is Aaron Wilson, and he is the Procurement Department head. Please start by introducing yourself.”

I nod, and begin: “I’m Sofia Ameen, and I am from Paris, France. In high school, I was ranked second nationally, and was my school valedictorian. After that, I earned my bachelor’s degree in Logistics & International Trade from the University of Bordeaux. Then, I applied for a Master’s degree to the university here in Washington. I majored in Supply Chain Management with a minor in Geopolitics.

I graduated last summer, and spent the last 6 months interning at a Freight Company in New York, where I had first-hand experience in freight forwarding, and learned a lot about maritime transport.

I also had some experience with purchasing, and this is why I applied to be an assistant to the Purchasing and Procurement Department.”

I stop and look at the two people in front of me. Mr. Wilson is nodding and smiling, while Ms. Bradford still hasn’t let go of her frown. The former continues on asking me specific questions to the job, to which I answer correctly. After a while, he says:

“- Well I think that’s it for me. Samantha, do you still have questions?

- Yes. Tell me Miss Ameen, why are you applying for a job here in the States instead of your country of origin? Morocco is it?”

I swallow my saliva and take a deep breath before answering the question I heard in all of my job interviews:

“- Well, Ms. Bradford, I was born in France. I am both Moroccan and French. But to answer your question, I came to the United States for better opportunities. I studied here to learn the latest trends, and I want to work here because I love this field, and I want to be able to actually do excel in it.

- But aren’t you afraid of the language barrier? I see that you have almost no accent, but I’m sure there’s still a lot you don’t know in English…

- Ma’am, I became fluent in English at the age of 14. I have been living in the U.S. for the last 2 years. So far, I haven’t found any communication problems.

- But you look so… different! Are you sure you haven’t encountered any problems?”

I look down, sigh, and look up again:

“- Ms. Bradford, I’m aware that I am Arab, and that my hair and my black long lashes are the first thing you can notice about me. I know that I am tan. I’m also aware that I currently live in a country that can be racist. So far, my stay has been going smoothly, except during the job interviews I had lately.”

As I a smile politely to the lady, Mr. Wilson tries to keep a muffled laugh. He understood that my last sentence was targeted at her. She looks at me with wide eyes, composes herself and then says:

“- Well, I think that’s all for now. Thank you Miss Ameen.

- Thank you for your time, Madam and Sir. Have a great day!

- You too, miss Ameen.” Mr. Wilson responds. “And good luck!”

I leave the room and close the door behind me. Good luck indeed. I am not getting this job. Even if the department head gives his blessing, the HR lady didn’t like me at all. I need to start thinking about alternatives right away. The minute I go home, I need to start searching for other jobs, or a ticket home. As I reach the streets, my phone rings.

“- Hi Mom…

- Sweetheart, why the sad face?

-It’s always the same thing over and over again, mother. I have great interviews, I answer everything correctly, then comes the question: why don’t you go back home? I don’t get it, I’ve had good grades my whole life, no, excellent grades, even here in America. I’m good. Why isn’t that enough?

-Baby, I’m sure you will find a place where your origins don’t matter. Don’t lose hope, and more important, don’t lose faith in God. Keep on going baby girl, and your efforts will give you results. You’re my smart girl, you always find a way!

-Thank you mommy, your talks are the only things holding me up. I have to go now. I need to decide if I’m taking a taxi or the subway.

-The subway is cheaper. Don’t blow up your savings baby; remember you don’t have a job yet!

-Mom!

-Bye sweetie! Talk later!”

She laughs and hangs up. I admit it felt a bit better after talking to my mom. She always knows how to make me feel better. I miss her. If there wasn’t a whole ocean between us, I would probably visit more frequently.

I reach the end of the sidewalk, and as I’m about to cross the street, I see a black van approaching fast…