It’s a small world

It was finally my time to meet the hiring manager and I was determined to be the best candidate. After four months of joblessness, I was tired and so were the soles of my shoes. Therefore, to me this wasn’t just a competition; it was war and I was hell-bent on winning. Even as I sat in the company lobby waiting for my turn, I had made sure to look and sound confident. I was asking my fellow applicants about their work experience and then wishing them luck since they didn’t seem to fulfill all the requirements. Obviously, I had no work experience but intimidation is a good war strategy. I knocked on the door and a female voice said, “Come in.” I turned the door knob with a pretentiously confident smile but the smile disappeared as soon as I set my eyes on the hiring manager. I gasped and also supplied carbon dioxide to the surrounding areas. She was someone from my past. She was someone from my former secondary school. When she joined the school in S.5., I was in S.3. I thought it would be funny to put salt in her flour. She cried. Someone ratted me out. But instead of offering an apology, I had just told her to get over it. She was older but at the time, she was half my size. She couldn’t possibly do anything to me. Yet now here we were. I thought of leaving. She hadn’t seen me yet. She was looking down, writing something in her notebook. Save yourself from this embarrassment, I thought. But I hadn’t seen her in about seven years. Wasn’t it possible that she had already forgotten me? I had changed. I had lost a ton of weight. I had plucked my eyebrows and I had covered my steel wool hair with hair from a Brazilian or an Indian or a goat... the point is that it wasn’t my hair. As the thoughts ran through my head, I was standing in the doorway, frozen. “Come in,” she said again, this time looking up. She asked me to sit down. She asked me about my background and I strategically left out the name of my secondary school. But she asked. Then I thought to myself: “She’s asking because she remembers you. Just confess and ask for forgiveness! Do it now!” Yet I couldn’t bring myself to it. Maybe she was just asking. So I told her, almost under my breath. Then she said, “Oh. That’s interesting! I went to the same school! It’s a small world, isn’t it, Liz?” And just then, she wore a smirk on her face. Then I definitely knew she had remembered me. What happened thereafter involved sweating and more supply of carbon dioxide. I spent nights awake wondering if she would throw my application in a furnace or if she would hire me just to torture me. Why am I wasting my time with this sob story? Being young is all about living in the moment, right? Well, yes, if like me, you want to learn the hard way that it’s a small world and therefore burning bridges is unwise.

Education

It’s a small world