Scars (Romola 2)

8: The Interview Room

Romola hurried out of the bus and tried to speed walk across the interlocked stone leading to the fifteen-glass story of Pillard Industries.

Late.

She was running late.

Of all days to be late.

Today.

She could only hope that she would still be allowed into the building. Mr Joseph would not be happy about this. At the main gate, the security man eyed her.

"Good afternoon. Why are you here?" His sharp words pierced her ears.

She fought sleep as she thought of how best to answer the question. Ifeoma was a basket case who chose to blast music all night while Edidiong put on a karaoke performance for the whole compound.

"I have an interview here with the accounting department."

The man looked her over. She patted her wig again to tame the loose stands caressing her face.

"No face mask, no entry."

"Oh, I have one."

She dug into her bag. It wasn't in the side pocket of her small black handbag. The man took a step towards her and she dug frantically in the crevices of her bag. The nose mask was buried under the little notebook where she had jotted down possible questions.

"Here."

"Put it on before you sign in."

She pulled the elastic bands of her facemask around her ear. She winced as the band snagged against her ears. The other band refused to fit. She struggled with the bands until they fit around the back of her ears.

"Where do I sign?"

He pointed to a notebook on the glass table that bore the Pilliard Logo- a giant P in 3 fiery swirls. He picked the sanitizer from the table and squirted some in her hands. The cool gel melted into her skin during the frantic dance of her palms against each other. She picked the pen off the table and tried to slow her breathing.

"Please, what's the time?"

He took forever to lift his phone. Was his wristwatch just for fancy?

"11:17."

"Mogbe." She swore under her breath. "Do you know if the interview has started?"

"I don't know ma'am. Just go inside and ask the receptionist."

She stopped in front of the mirror in the security post, making the necessary adjustments to the parts of her outfit that had been tossed aside when the Danfo was swerving left and right trying to beat traffic.

Whoever thought closing the bridge was a good idea needed to have their heads checked. The city had become a traffic hotspot and people like her were the ones who suffered while the demi gods who made the rules barely contented with traffic.

"Wo, it's fine like that." She walked past the security post to the inner part of the Pilliard compound.

The multistorey building with thick dark glasses and white frame walls loomed over the green landscape. On each side of the walkway well-kept grass and flowers bloomed around her. A sparsely filled car park with fancy bright coloured cars sat beside the building.

She looked away from the massive triangular jutting edges of the building and ascended the outside steps, two at a time and on the very last staircase, she was almost sure she heard a lethal crack from the underfoot of her heels. This was not the time to inspect shoe damage. She pressed forwards to the automatic doors.

The door shut behind her, enclosing her in the clean and vibrant Pilliard lobby. The receptionist's desk was S-shaped and a magnified version of the word Pilliard hung on the opposite wall. The air-conditioned air gave a chilling but fresh smell to the atmosphere and she could almost detect the faint flowery scent of some air conditioner. She hurried to the desk and approached the woman closest to the door.

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, ma. Welcome to Pilliard."

Ma? Could a sleepless night age her that much? She placed her hand on the glass top of the table. "I have an appointment for today."

"What time was the appointment stated for and with whom?"

"It's actually for an interview with the accounting department by 10." She forced humility into her voice.

"Oh. you're late."

"I know but there was traffic. The bridge got closed and-"

The woman adjusted her face shield and typed some words on the keyboard that rested on the depressed part of the table. "It looks like they are still accepting candidates. Just go up to the 7th floor. The first blue door on your right."

"Thank you very much."

"Good luck with your interview."

Romola hurried to the elevator as she prayed to God for some kind of miracle, she wouldn't be turned away. She'd done her research. Pilliard was a big company overseas but their Nigerian branch was starting to make waves.

She found the blue door with ease. In the room, some people sat on the chairs lined against the wall. She recognized the man with the slim poker face who sat at the far right corner.

"Hey Demola."

He waved her over to his seat. She walked across the room, avoiding the eyes of the other well dressed men and women.

She sat beside Demola and rubbed her palms against her forearms. The room was much cooler than she had anticipated. In her rush to leave the house, she had forgotten her jacket.

She smiled at Demola. "Have you been called up?"

"No. They haven't attended to us yet. The interviewers are having a meeting."

"Thank God." Romola placed a hand on her chest.

"Why are you late?"

"Traffic." It was a better excuse than revealing what really happened on Sunday nights in the shared flat. "How long have you been here?"

"8:30."

"Has anything happened since then?"

"Yes, a woman came and took our names. She told us the company would only take two people."

"Two... as in?"

She looked at the other candidates. A woman with straight shoulder-length orange hair stared back at her.

"Two out of five candidates. I know I will be number one. You can fight for your own spot with the remaining four."

Demola laughed.

Most of the other candidates were as young as she and Demola. A man with a fit dark blue suit and a small scar above his upper cheeks sat on the same row as she did. An elegantly dressed woman with a hijab sat behind him and the orange haired woman sat closest to the door. The woman still watched her. Romola frowned at the woman and the woman frowned back. Romla shook off the woman's gaze, curling her lips leftwards and lifting her eyes to the sight before her.

On the wall, at Demola's right hand side, there was a flat screen. In front of them was a yellow wall. Half of it was a transparent glass window. A wooden door, closer to the door at the main room led to this one. Inside the room, there were three chairs behind the desk and one in front of the desk.

"Is that where they will interview us?"

"I don't know. Next time, come early."

"There won't be a next time. I'm getting this one."

Author's Note:

I won't be posting tomorrow, Sunday and Monday because I have other tasks to do this weekend but I will post the chapters today.