This was the second interview she had been invited to after the debacle at Olumide’s office. Her eyes skidded past the cream walls on both sides of the hallway as she marched behind the woman that had conducted her interview.
The woman looked about fifty-something and streaks and strands of grey hair flowed from the root of her hair to join the tuft of hair behind her neck.
“How long have you been out of school?” The woman asked.
Romola shut her eyes. While applying for the job she’d mentioned that she had attended the university of Lagos. She didn’t add the fact that she had never graduated.
“Two years.”
The woman paused, “I didn’t quite catch you.”
“I’ve been out for two years.” Romola pulled at the neck of her woollen round neck shirt.
The itchy feeling in her throat was worse.
Lie.
Her mind begged to tell the truth but if she confessed, she would be sent out of the building faster than she could sneeze.
“Wait here. Someone will be with you shortly.” The woman held a glass door open. “Good luck.”
The woman ran her long fingers down the length of her dark blue dress. The light glistened off the woman’s ring as she turned away. Was that one of the woman’s pieces?
She didn’t know how a jewellery store had ended on the list Hadassah gave her but she was grateful for the opportunity.
The interview room was dipped in the same cream colour as the inner walls of the building. Opposite her was a large wooden desk, dark brown, that housed a silver plaque on its centre with the name ‘Uwana’ inscribed on it. Beside the plaque, a cardboard box divided into sixteen squares that held different rings. On the other side of the table, a tablet laid on the drawing pad.
Romola peeked at the sketch underneath the tablet. An unfinished orb stared back at her. She walked to the plush green leather chair, the only bold coloured furniture in the room. Her body sank into the chair. A light flowery Scent flowed into her nostrils. How much she would love to work in this place.
The door swung open. She rose. A dark woman with a lean face and high cheekbones walked into the room. Thick dark natural hair fell over the woman’s slender shoulder.
Romola’s eyes pinched closer. Where was the end of the woman’s hair and where did the weavon begin?
“It’s my hair.”
“I...I wasn’t going to ask.”
“People always ask.” A small friendly smile lit the woman’s face.
“I usually don’t employ fresh graduates.” The woman placed her laptop on the table before settling into the high back chair behind the desk. “But I’ve decided to take on some fresh blood. So why should I hire you, miss?”
Romola struggled to meet the woman’s eyes. Miss Uwana was composed. Not in the way that a potential employer was but, in a sense that worry and pain in the universe were a thousand miles away. Like she was in charge of every minute of her day.
“Romola. Moromola Grace Ibikunle.”
“And you studied Accounting at the University of Lagos?”
Romola took a step forward. This was her moment to tell the person-in-charge about her problem.
“I… It’s not like…”
“I’m not particularly interested in where you studied. I want to be sure that you’re efficient. Can you balance this book?”
Romola blinked. This was not the kind of interview she had prepared for. Her heart danced to a private slow music.
“Moromola?”
“Ma?"
“Can you do it?” The woman opened the laptop.
Balancing the book was easy but providing the degree the woman would surely ask for was another ball game entirely.
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Scars (Romola 2)
Любовные романы"Then maybe you should have stayed in schoool. Instead of trying to be an elevated secretary and teaching me my Job." - - - - - Beyond managing Iya Tobi's store and pursing a shadow of an education, Romola's plate is full. It's been two years since...
