I wake up around 7am to the sound of someone cursing from down below in the streets. I would have been able to sleep longer if I had closed the window, but the air-condition doesn't work and I get hot when I sleep, Rolling out of my bed couch table, I shuffle to the bathroom and a quick shower.
I only allow myself to wash my hair twice a week to preserve shampoo and conditioner. If I run out then I'll be forced to use dish detergent which will have my already messy horrible dyed red hair even worse. As for the rest of my body, I will spend my last penny on soap and lotion. People can call me poor, but they will never call me dirty.
When I get dressed, I leave my hair down to air dry, hoping my wavy strands don't frizz up. I didn't completely feel comfortable with the way I look, but I don't have a choice. The struggle is all too real. I just hope whoever is interviewing me looks past my pathetic state and give me a chance. if I don't get this job then I hitch hike my broke ass back to Alabama or find some church steps to sleep on.
Locking up my apartment, thought it doesn't do a darn thing to stop burglars, I make my way to the bus stop. My interview isn't till 9:30 and it is only 7:45, but I need to extra time to make the walk to catch the bus. As people pass me, I feel invisible. Everyone is talking on the phone or to other people as I make my way between them like a small ghost in this large world.
as much as I want to be noticed, I don't want to be noticed like this. People look down on folks like me. They would say that am my own downfall and that I put myself in this situation. They're right. I blamed myself every day for my living situation so that I can beat everyone else to the punch.
After 20 minutes of standing next to an old guy who keeps peeks at my ass, the bus comes. I make my way to the back and flop down putting earbuds in my ear to drown out the chitter chatter.
I get to the building at 9:05 and as I'm walking in, it becomes apparently obviously that I don't belong here. The sound of heels clacking against the floor fills my ear as women walk by in tight dresses and expensive shoes while my 5 years old flats squeak as that rubber sole catches the floor. Self-conscious, I reach up and flatten my hair a bit, knowing it's probably a mess.
Taking a deep breath, I go to the elevator just as its opening. A group of people rush out, bumping into me as they go their separate ways. Stepping onto the medal box I hit the 17th floor in front of me, a old guy turns his head to look at me. His eyes roam over me as if I'm not supposed to be here I stare at him frowning "can I help you with something?"
"Not at all." He mumbleds turning back around, but in the reflection of the doors, I see this ofor man looking at me. It would be so simple to give him the middle finger, but the elevator doors open as soon as the thought crosses my mind. Stepping out, I walk through a set of class door and up to a large desk. I look around and everyone looks clean and orderly. Everyone is perfectly dressed with perfecty tamed hair. No coffee stains or missing buttons on shirts. It's like everyone was groomed just for this job.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" I turn to the voice behind the desk. "Huh?"
The woman smiles a bit more, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth "I said can I help you with something?"
"Oh I'm here for a job interview"
"Name?" She asks as she starts typing in her computer.
"Thea Washington"
"Ah yes, here you are." She nods, picking up her phone "Mr. Sawyer, Thea Washington is here for an interview. Should I send her in?" She nods a few times and mumbleds a few words before hanging up.
"You can have a seat right over there and Mr. Sawyer will be right with you"