New Job

"Rachel, I still don't understand why you would speak to someone like that, especially *him* — Norman Jonathan, a man who owns over ten multi-billion-dollar companies worldwide," my mother says, staring at me in shock.

"Mom, you know I can't stand discrimination. He didn't even look at my résumé; he just dismissed me because I'm a college dropout," I reply, frustration spilling out. It seems like nothing goes the way I want, all because of this one unfortunate circumstance.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry I became such a burden on you and Jil," my mom says, trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mom, please don't say that. None of this is your fault," I tell her gently as I guide her back to her room to rest. "Just get some sleep, okay? I'll find a job somewhere, even if it's in a restaurant. We'll manage."

Once she's settled, I step out and bump into Jil in the hallway. "She just fell asleep," I tell him. "Could you clear the dishes and get ready for bed?"

I head to my room, sinking onto the bed with a heavy sigh, my thoughts racing. 

*Where do I go from here?*

There are bills to pay, responsibilities piling up, and not nearly enough income to cover them. Desperate ideas flit through my mind.

"Maybe I could... no, that's ridiculous." I shake off the fleeting thoughts. I'll just go around tomorrow, apply to as many places as I can, and hopefully find something.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls me into sleep.

The next morning, my alarm blares, an annoyingly chipper "Rise and shine! You've got this!" echoing through the room. I groan, roll over, and promptly hit the snooze button twice. Finally, the time flashes 6:30, and I realize I can't waste any more time. Pulling on my blue leggings and sports bra, I lace up my sneakers and head downstairs.

My mom is already up, slicing an apple at the dining table. "Good morning, Mom. Hope you slept well," I say, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Stay safe," she calls as I dash out the door.

With my headphones on, I start my morning jog, allowing the rhythmic beat of the music to drown out my worries. After an hour, I head back, finding a note from my mom on the table: "Hey honey, I went to get groceries with Jil, back in an hour. Love, Mom."

Smiling, I head upstairs for a quick shower. Once I'm dressed, I pull out my laptop and start applying for every job I can find. Just as I'm about to close my email, a new message pops up from Norman Industries.

Subject: Interview for Personal Assistant Position 

Dear Miss Silver, 

You have been selected for the final stage of the interview for the role of Mr. Jonathan's personal assistant. Please report to the office at 10 a.m. on March 17th for the last interview. 

Best Regards, 

Belinda Snow, Secretary 

---

I stare at the screen, rereading the email in disbelief. Is this real? I glance at the date—today is March 17. The clock reads almost 9 a.m., giving me barely enough time to get ready. Quickly, I slip into a black blouse, a pink satin skirt, and my best heels, carefully choosing some sleek lingerie to feel confident. After jotting down a note for my mom, I rush to catch the next bus.

As the bus rattles along, a thought hits me. I insulted this man—and he still called me in? Maybe Mr. Johnson put in a good word for me after all.

When I arrive at the building, I head straight for the reception desk, where I recognize the woman from my previous visit. She introduces herself as Ava, and after some polite small talk, I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the tenth floor. Just before the doors close, someone steps in beside me. I look up and freeze—it's him. Norman Jonathan.

My heart races, but he simply glances at me briefly and says nothing. Moments later, Mr. Johnson joins us. He looks at me with a slight smile. "Good morning, Miss Silver. You're quite early."

"Yes… I didn't want to be late," I manage, still trying to calm my nerves.

The elevator dings, and as they step out, Mr. Johnson nods toward the reception area. "You can wait here, Miss Silver." I sit, trying to mentally prepare for whatever is about to happen. 

Finally, Mr. Johnson returns. "Miss Silver, Mr. Jonathan will see you now." He disappears before I can thank him, leaving me no choice but to ask Belinda, who points down the hall with a barely concealed sneer.

I take a deep breath and knock on the office door. A calm "Come in" answers me. Stepping in, I find Mr. Jonathan behind an immaculate desk, sleeves rolled up, his suit jacket hanging nearby. His gaze is sharp, assessing.

"Good morning, sir. I'm Rachel Sil-"

"There's no need for introductions, Miss Silver," he says curtly. "You'll start tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp. Report to Johnson for training. That will be all."

I stand there for a second, taken aback by his abruptness. *Well, that was rude,* I think, turning toward the door. Just as I'm about to leave, he speaks again.

"Oh, and Miss Silver? Try not to drool next time. It's… unbecoming." His tone is flat, but the sting of his words catches me off guard.

Outside, I find Mr. Johnson's office and knock. He invites me in with a warm smile.

"How did it go?"

"There wasn't much of an interview... and he's incredibly rude," I admit.

Mr. Johnson chuckles. "You'll get used to it. Here are his requirements, his schedule, and the office rules. Also, here's your contract." He hands me a stack of documents.

As I skim through, my eyes widen. "Wait, it's a one-year contract? And the salary is... five hundred thousand dollars?"

"Yes," he says, nodding. "It's renewable each year, and yes, you'll be required to travel quite often."

"Can I take this home to review it and bring it back tomorrow?" I ask.

"Of course. Just bring it with you in the morning."

I thank him and head back to the bus, my mind spinning with the surreal turn of events. Back home, I set about making lunch, still trying to process everything.

When my mom finally comes downstairs, I can't wait to share the news. "Mom, I got the job! I'll be traveling a lot, though."

Her face lights up with pride. "That's wonderful, Rachel. I'm so proud of you."

We share a quiet, hopeful moment, and I know that this is only the beginning. As I help her with lunch, I allow myself to feel something I haven't in a long time: optimism.