The young man lay in bed, fast asleep, when the sound of his alarm clock abruptly interrupted his slumber. As the ringing and vibrating grew louder, he groaned in annoyance, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. He tried to keep his eyes closed, ignoring the clock's demands, but it became clear that the insistent noise wasn't going away.
Determined to sleep through the maddening rings, he ignored the clock's cacophony, even if it meant waking up deaf or with a splitting headache. But the square-shaped timer kept ringing, becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second.
Finally, Ortega grumbled and yawned, stretching his right arm out to fumble for the snooze button on his clock. "Just a few more minutes, please..." he muttered, his eyelids fluttering as he spoke. After finding the button, he let out a tired sigh of relief and closed his eyes once more, snuggling up to his pillow as he drifted off to sleep.
But just a minute later, he suddenly opened his eyes and sat up in bed, shirtless and sweating. His previously drowsy black eyes were now wide awake and alert, scanning the walls of his small one-room apartment.
He looked at the torn calendar hanging on his closet door and muttered, "Don't tell me... it's today?! My interview starts in 30 freaking minutes!"
He gave a panicked yell and jumped out of bed, shuffling his feet as he quickly put on his slip-on shoes and made his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth vigorously, creating a cloud of paste foam over his mouth, before washing his face with cupped hands.
Looking at the mirror, Ortega saw his average-looking face staring back at him, too plain to describe. His black eyes, set under a canopy of hardly visible brows, reflected a mixture of surprise and determination. His thin, cracked lips parted slightly as he noticed a zit sitting prominently on the tip of his nose, a small blemish that marred an otherwise unremarkable canvas.
The newcomer had to appear today of all days, and his nose of all places. Great! He bit his bottom lip in frustration, then pinched the pimple and squeezed, determined to pop the bastard but failed.
It seemed it wasn't ripe yet and he only succeeded in making it bigger.
The mirror's reflection didn't lie; it was an honest portrayal of his features. His complexion was tanned—a pale bronze, with a hint of unevenness around his nose and cheeks, evidence of past battles with acne. His jawline, slightly obscured by a hint of stubble, was strong yet unremarkable. A small scar near his chin, barely noticeable unless one looked closely, hinted at a forgotten childhood mishap.
"Damn acne," he muttered to himself as he washed his face and moved to his closet. He swung open the door, impatiently tossing clothes upon his unmade bed, before finally deciding on what to wear.
He dressed up quickly and bolted for the exit, wasting time coming back three times to pick up his phone, bag, and tie.
Soon, Ortega found himself seated in a taxi, his eyes darting frantically to his wristwatch every few seconds. The vehicle sped through the city streets, zooming past tall buildings and magnificent skyscrapers that seemed to scrape the sky. Flashy billboards adorned with bright colors and sleek designs advertised several new products, their messages illuminated by the vibrant lights of the city. Above, luxurious aircraft soared overhead, their graceful forms contrasting with the hustle and bustle below.
Ortega was too preoccupied with the anxiety of being late to notice these sights, his mind racing with thoughts of the interview awaiting him. The taxi weaved through traffic, the streets alive with the sounds of honking horns and the chatter of pedestrians. Neon lights reflected off the sleek surfaces of the skyscrapers, casting a colorful glow across the cityscape.
With only six minutes left, Ortega tapped his foot on the floor of the vehicle, his sweaty fingers squeezing the headrest of the driver's seat as he leaned forward.
"Hey, um can you drive a little faster, please? I have a big appointment and I'm running late," he requested, doing his best to sound polite.
The taxi driver, a bald man wearing shades, cleared his throat as he answered. "I can't, young man. As you can see, regulations have been put in place, so I must drive within the accepted speed limit," he said, glancing at Ortega's reflection in the rearview mirror. "And calm your nerves. I can hear your foot drumming on my floor."
"Sorry."
"Rest assured, we'll be there in a few minutes."
Ortega slumped back to his chair, but he could barely relax. Looking at his watch once more, he could only hope that he wasn't late for the interview, as that would leave a terrible first impression on his employers. It took him a lot to get this job offer, and he didn't want a scenario whereby he'd be fired before work even started. He needed to at least make sure he was present for the interview, then his mind would be at ease, for he was confident that he would be able to handle whatever questions were thrown at him.
He was still lost in his thoughts when the vehicle came to a halt. His breath hitched, and he exhaled with relief. He was right on time! He smiled at his wristwatch and hurriedly paid the fare before alighting from the taxi. As the vehicle drove off, he stood in front of a large building covered with lots of shiny windows.
Ortega inhaled, his heart thumping with excitement. He still couldn't believe he had come this far. Earlier, he had applied for different job posts in numerous companies, but none of them had even considered reviewing his proposals. He didn't know why it was so, and he couldn't think of a reason why the companies refused to hire him. His CV was excellent, and he graduated with a first-class degree in marketing. He may not have had the best connections, but he knew his strengths. He had always assumed his case to be an unfortunate one, and now, finally, he had a chance to prove himself.
What's more? The company acknowledging him ranked as one of the biggest and fastest-growing brands in the country. He smiled at the possibility of working here, how this could change his life. After that, he relaxed his excited heart, reminding himself of the criteria involved. Securing the job first was paramount, he just had to remain grounded and focused enough to reach his goal.
Ortega stood outside the building, nervously rubbing his hands together. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this, but he knew he had to try. Straightening his posture as best he could, he exhaled slowly, puffing out his chest in an attempt to appear confident. His smile was forced, a faint quiver betraying his nerves.
With each step towards the entrance, his shoes clicked against the pavement, a sound that echoed in his ears. The cool breeze brushed against his skin, but it did little to ease the warmth spreading through his cheeks. The sun was shining brightly, casting harsh shadows across the ground, and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue that seemed to mock his uncertainty.
The glass doors of the building loomed ahead, and Ortega felt a rush of anxiety building up inside him. This was a big moment for him, and he knew it could change everything. With a shaky hand, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside, hoping to find the courage to face whatever challenge lay ahead.