A GROUP OF EMPLOYEES, comprising four well-dressed women and a guy in a nerdy outfit, hurriedly walked into the entrance of Tarra Gona Corporate Office. After placing their umbrellas in the umbrella rack, they headed to the reception area. They chatted with the vivacious receptionist and complained about the weather. A moment later, a tall woman from their group reminded them that it was already 1:45 PM.
The tall woman worriedly informed them, "Girls, we overextended our lunch break."
Meanwhile, the woman with long straight hair dismissed such worry, "Duh! Can't you see the downpour? Oh, and the hot pot was to die for," then she grinned at the receptionist. "Girl, gimme today's tea."
However, the most senior female employee of the group admonished them from gossiping, "Hush! Hush! Let's get back to work now."
The other woman scoffed, "Uh! Give us a break, Auntie Etta. This bad weather is ruining our TGIF. I want something hot and spicy. If you know what I mean—"
The receptionist laughed at it. She made a cute grin and winked. "Gee! The least I could do is serve THE TEA!"
The women giggled like schoolgirls; except for Aunt Etta whose furrowed brows meant they should quit it. Meanwhile, the nerdy guy ignored them and busied himself fiddling with his phone.
Out of respect for Auntie Etta, they bid goodbye to the receptionist and proceeded to the elevator.
Gradually, the lobby was crowded with people patiently waiting for the rain to ease up. Their conversations were occasionally interrupted by thunderclaps.
Meanwhile, a solitary woman stood near the exit, visibly affected by the cold air conditioning and gloomy weather. Clutching her leather messenger briefcase, she shivered slightly and was mortified. And who wouldn't? Especially when she overheard the unflattering conversations unfolding behind her and directly aimed at her.
"That's her? The HER?"
"Ohhh! So she's the applicant whom both the Commoners and the Clackers & Friends have dubbed as 'marked by the witch'."
"Shhhh! She might hear us!"
"For once, those annoying, nosy office cliques shared the same opinion."
"Judging from how she's dressed up, I wouldn't be surprised if the bitchy witchy Isabella—"
"Shush it! You know, speak of the devil—"
"Hey, keep it low, girls! She might hear us."
"—So what? She won't be hired, anyway."
"Mind you, she's gutsy. Did you know? She applied for an editorial position at Luxietude."
A collective wave of 'ohhh' echoed. Someone let out a mocking laugh.
"O-h, m-y g-o-d! That's the resting bitch face's turf."
"Tsk-tsk. An editorial position at the most respected lifestyle magazine? Clearly, she hasn't looked at herself in the mirror."
"Or, maybe, she didn't have a mirror."
"Pfft!"
They laughed.
Someone interjected to end their scornful chatter, "You girls are mean."
"Oh! Hi, Ms. Agatha."
After that, they quieted.
The subject of their gossip was Charmaine, that solitary woman standing in front of them. This kind of gossip wasn't a first. She had learned to bear it. She muttered a comforting affirmation she often said to console herself, 'This too shall pass.'
The women resumed their conversation but transitioned into complaints about the weather and the unfortunate cancellation of the night market due to the bad weather.
While waiting for the rain to ease up, Charmaine reflected on the events that unfolded in the interview room. She was here for a final job interview. Those women were right. She was marked by the witch.
A few hours ago, during the job interview, eight hopefuls vied for the job vacancy at Luxietude, a wellness, fashion, and luxury lifestyle platform with a strong digital and print media presence.
She reflected on what had transpired during the interview.
Unfortunately, one of the interviewers singled her out, to the point of embarrassing her. And her name was Isabella, the Artistic Director and Content Advisor at Tarra Gona.
She vividly remembered how Isabella stood there, resembling a nominee for the 100 Most Influential Women, as if posing for a photoshoot on the cover of HERstory, Our Story, the country's most prestigious and longest-running magazine featuring women who made significant contributions to society.
Isabella wore an elegant black ensemble, with matching stilettos, befitting a funeral. The deep plum lipstick perfectly complemented the face partially concealed behind oversized sunglasses. She was a manifestation of glamor, allure, power, and ambition. She had a habit of flicking the strands of her short wavy bob hair. She would often cross her arms to display a power pose.
Meanwhile, Charmaine nervously sat there and profusely sweating. She felt like she was the casualty of the day. She was the receiving end of Isabella's unrestrained opinion and callous remark.
Charmaine left home full of enthusiasm and confidence, but she wasn't prepared for a scathing remark from an interviewer. She wanted to speak up for herself but she didn't have the strength to do so.
She couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow offended Isabella in the past. However, she's certain she hadn't met Isabella.
Charmaine can do only so much because if an opportunity doesn't come knocking, the bitch must have snatched it.
Suddenly, a thunderbolt startled her, breaking her reminiscence. She became aware that more people had gathered in the lobby.
Back to her inner thoughts, she regretted not getting the job. This incident reinforced her belief that today, Friday the 14th was an unlucky day.
She glanced at her reflection on the glass wall. She flinched and sighed. She was muttering to herself, 'I look awful. So much for the job interview makeup tutorial on YouTube!' That she haphazardly followed because she was running late. Finally, she admitted to herself that it was all her fault, 'I was counting chickens before they hatched.'
She wanted to get away from this place. But she's stuck here because of the rain. She's hungry. That's what she got for skipping breakfast.
It would take her approximately 15 minutes to reach the bus stop on foot. However, the discomfort caused by walking in those pointed-toe pumps, which had given her blisters, made the prospect daunting. By the time she got there, she'd be soaked in rain. She decided to wait and calm herself.
Charmaine was self-conscious as she mentally assessed her boring appearance. If only she could turn back time to that job interview, she would have responded differently—
Suddenly, a tempting, rich aroma of coffee wafted in the air.
She mused, 'Coffee and donuts would be a welcome treat.'
Her stomach growled. She squirmed and mumbled to herself, 'Hang in there, buddy. I'll feed you all the sweets and all the chips in the cupboards.' She subtly felt her fuller belly, a result of a weeklong unhealthy, binge-eating while binge-watching Condelucia Royals on Yurflix+, a popular streaming app. She groaned at her latest obsession, 'I can't help it. That's the only thing that makes me happy these days.'
Her brooding went on. 'I'm 32 and my life sucks,' she let out a frustrated groan. 'I'm so dumb. I failed my chance of getting a full-time job.'
Now she'll have another reason to binge-watch and give in to her food cravings.
She focused her attention on the cafe in the lobby. She noticed all four applicants snacking there, chatting happily and enjoying their snacks. She felt envious knowing that they were all hired. Why else would they be socializing there?
Finally, the rain dwindled to a drizzle, much to her relief. She was ready to leave when a sudden commotion erupted near the executive-only elevator.
Out of curiosity, Charmaine turned around to see what was going on.