Euphoria

APPLICATION FOR POST OF A SECRETARY AT THE DI MAURO GLOBAL ENTERPRISE…

"Has been awarded a chance for an interview!" Twenty-three-year-old Elma Gray muttered to herself in euphoria. A moment ago, she was gloomy about not having got an e-Mail yet. Now this, a clearly hand-written text message from the management of the Di Mauro's!

"Aargh!" Elma dumped the phone onto the scattered white-coloured duvet, jumping hysterically up on her feet.

No. On a second thought, she yanked it off the bed, eyes darting for the entry way. Her mind was about to shoot up in flames; happy flames. Pitting one foot over the other, she wished she had not left her room in such a state. Crumpled balled papers littered all over the place. Before the phone beep, she'd been having it hard coming up with the juiciest formal letter. Since her application to the Di Mauro's Enterprise had dated back to thirteen days ago, her anxiety had further grown. Hence, she'd written a ton of application to different establishments for the last couple of days—three in total. Maybe being ambitious wasn't so much a good thing, Elma had thought. Now, she was thankful she hadn't lost all hope after all.

Elma dashed out of her bedroom, flying over the wasted papers. The loud, chopping sound of a ringing telephone was echoing through the flat. Clambering down the white polished stairs, she descended into the hallway, where the retro blue phone sat screwed to the wall.

"Is this Elma Gray?" the voice sounded familiar. Though she could not easily identify it.

"Yes?" Elma was twisting the phone cord around her finger. "Who's asking?"

"Hi, I'm a rich handsome Billionaire. I may have fallen in love with you…"

"TED!" Elma held the phone away from her ear as she cackled along, hands on her stomach. "That was so not funny!"

"Your sharp giggling isn't exactly saying otherwise?"

"Right." Elma rolled her eyes first. "I was pretty eager to ring you anyway."

"Glad I beat you to it." Ted said, a little too loudly. Elma could hear the hooting of cars and bustling of traffic behind him.

"Are you headed somewhere?"

"No? Why?"

"Ehm, it's possibly because of the car noises and stuff."

"Really, now?" Ted didn't sound too pleased. "Have you forgotten what I do at the office?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Elma sighed, biting her lips. Ted was a Traffic Warden; he only had two days out of five when he stayed back in the office to do minor supervision. "Ted?"

"Cuz…"

"I've got good news!"

"Oh yes, I stole a minute to know your state after all. How's it going around the house, with your letter writing and stuff."

Elma was bobbing her head, half smiling, half dancing. She wanted to share a big deal. "It doesn't matter." She sniffed.

"No?" Elma could imagine his puzzled face over the phone. She cringed, her mouth bursting wide with bouts of spastic laughter.

"Elma, what are you not saying? And why are you laughing?" Ted paused. The way his voice faded told Elma that he'd possibly pulled the phone away to have a quick talk with somebody. "So, back to what we were saying, did you quit your job hunt already?"

"No? But are you busy?" Elma asked.

"Busy?" His light chuckle echoed over the receiver. "'Course not! Besides, I placed the call through, didn't I?"

"Sure you did. "

"So, tell me couz. Why're you suddenly quitting?"

"I'm not."

"Ech— this is starting to sound frustrating: one minute you say you ditching out those application letters no longer matter, the next minute, you say you are not quitting. Which is which, couz?"

"The problem is you are not listening."

"I wasn't?"

"No," Elma said, nodding her head along. "I said I had a good news, you've been talking a lot lately."

"Fine. I am a talkative, I agree. So, tell me what good news you got."

"I GOT A JOB, TED!" Elma yelled before he'd finish his line.

"You what, now?— A job!?"

"Yes," Elma had to laugh, tugging at the phone cord, excitedly. "I didn't just get a job. I got The Job."

"What? They emailed you about it?" Ted's voice gave away his eager excitement.

"Of course, yes." Elma shouted first. "Wait, no."

"'No?' Why, no?"

"They did reach out to me, but not via a mail. They sent an SMS instead."

"Wow!" Elma could hear him smack his fist onto something.

"Great, my watch is now ruined."

"Is it? I'm sorry —"

"No, scratch that! It's not important as this news you've now said, brilliant news! Elm, I can imagine how ecstatic mom is going to be, and Howard, he's going to cut you some slack now for staying in his house."

"Howard—is your dad, Ted."

"Does that count? He's been throwing shades about you owning your keep in the house."

"But that was before," Elma recounted. "He's been a bit more understanding in the last couple of days."

"True. I'm starting to think he encountered an angel or something."

"Ted?" Elma drawled.

"Never mind me. Tell me, when they said the interview was going to happen."

"Oh—that," Elma felt her glistening face dampen, sagging along. "They didn't specify when the interview would happen."

"What!?" Elma had to pull the phone away due to how he shouted. "They haven't yet?"

"Not yet," Elma replied him.

"This is bad."

"How—how bad?" Elma leaned forward, chewing her lips.

"Don't know. They should have; I wonder why they wouldn't."

"You're starting to make me feel bad. You're sounding like…"

Her phone dinged again, she'd received another notification. Another SMS. INTERVIEW VENUE & TIME, the beginning read.

"Oh my God!" Elma flew her hands up to her mouth, Ted's voice raging louder over the receiver. She could hardly believe her luck.

"TED!"

"Talk to me, Elm…"

"I just received another text?"

"From them?"

"From them."

Elma's heart was thudding very fast. She could hardly contain it. "You will not believe what they sent."

"What?"

"My interview…"

"What about it, Elma. The anxiety is killing me over here. What did they say should happen to your interview."

"Ted, it's happening now."

——> to be continued.