On Friday afternoon, I found myself staring intently at the increasingly sparse list of candidates strewn across my desk, my mind swirling with frustration. Who on earth knew it could be this challenging to find an assistant? As I sifted through the names, I was struck by an unsettling thought: perhaps it was I who was being scrutinized, judged, and ultimately deemed inadequate. It was an odd sensation, sitting in the interviewer's chair, feeling as though I were the one being evaluated.
The latest candidate had been a real piece of work. When I outlined the essential duties I anticipated her to fulfill, she burst into laughter, a sound both incredulous and derisive. She took my carefully compiled list, inspected it like a curator examining a damaged artifact, and with a swift flourish of her pen, crossed out a good portion of those responsibilities. And then, as if delivering a verdict, she declared that her expected compensation was twice the amount we were offering. I felt like sighing, reminding myself that she was only my fourth candidate, but it hardly mattered. The other hopefuls had been such disasters during their interviews that I'd long since decided there would be no point in extending them an offer. My second choice, in a rather startling display of nonchalance, had simply failed to show up at all, leaving me to wonder if perhaps there was a hidden memo circulating among job seekers, urging them not to waste their time on my position.
The sixth name on my list had been even less promising. A married woman with three children, she spent what felt like the entirety of the interview detailing all the ways she could not accommodate the demands of the job. "Overtime? No way," she stated firmly. "Travel? Absolutely not." Her mantra continued with a laundry list of reasons for needing time off, most revolving around the perpetual cycle of appointments for her children. "They're always sick or have something going on, you know?" she added with a shrug, as if it were merely the cost of doing business. "But I can definitely work from home." I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes as I guided her out of my office politely, all the while thinking that this wasn't the kind of dedication I was searching for.
Now, as I leaned back in my chair, I noticed that I had only two names left on the list of candidates. My gaze darted to the clock hanging ominously on the wall, and I couldn't help but grimace at what I suspected. I had a sinking feeling that my ninth candidate was, too, a no-show, as the appointed time had come and gone without a whisper of an explanation. That left me with a single candidate on the list : Isabelle Fairchild. I reached for her resume, hoping for a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.
She had previously served as a personal assistant for an account manager prior to their retirement four months ago. Since then, Isabelle had been picking up part-time work through an agency. On the surface, she appeared to have the qualifications I was seeking, but then I stumbled upon her personal letter of reference. It was glowing, to be sure, but words like "spunky," "eager to help and learn," and "always smiling" gave me pause. These weren't exactly the descriptors I desired. I craved someone quiet and industrious, someone who would tackle their tasks with determination rather than a chipper attitude. But as the clock ticked toward an unfriendly five forty-five, I came to the disheartening realization that Ms. Fairchild had likely decided against appearing as well.
A laugh, one tinged with self-deprecation escaped my lips as I slipped into my coat, acknowledging the inevitable defeat I would have to admit to Laurent come Monday morning. As I pressed the button to summon the elevator, I flicked off the overhead lights, our workspace dimming as I waited in the hallway. Just as I turned to leave, panic fluttered in my chest when I realized I had forgotten my phone. I hurried back to my desk, swiping it up in a frantic motion, the anxiety of the day weighing heavily on my mind as I rushed to the door. However, in my haste, I caught my foot on the edge of a display case.
Time slowed as I lurched sideways. At that very moment, someone dashed across the outside reception area, both of us colliding unexpectedly. The impact sent us sprawling to the tiled floor, limbs awkwardly entangled in a mess of confusion. I landed first, feeling a small, warm body tumble down onto me. A loud exhale escaped me, manifesting as a grunt as the weight settled awkwardly. The figure above me gasped in surprise, a soft sound that betrayed her gender, I could tell she was female.
As the lights around us suddenly went dim, a wave of shock held me in place, freezing both body and mind. It felt like an eternity, a surreal suspension in time; though I recognized it was likely only thirty seconds at most. I could hardly wrap my thoughts around the situation, paralyzed by the unfamiliar, sweet scent that enveloped us both. The woman appeared content to remain where she had landed, and I lifted my head slightly, a realization washing over me. The dimness enveloping my world had to do with the heavy cascade of hair now draped over me. My instincts kicked in, and I reached up to push it aside, trying to suppress the inexplicable urge to bury my face into the thick tresses and inhale deeply. That silly longing only fueled my frustration further, leaving me feeling angry with myself for being so affected by this unexpected turn of events.
"What in the world?" I growled, disbelief spilling from my lips like an outburst of a dam breaking. The woman lying before me slowly propped herself up, her hair cascading around her shoulders like a dark waterfall. I couldn't help but be vaguely mesmerized by her gaze those deep, haunting eyes seemed to cradle the weight of all the stars in the universe. They were round and wide with shock, yet a flicker of amusement hovered just beneath the surface, a glint of mischief that drew me in. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her full lips, and I felt an inexplicable gravitational pull towards her.
"Hi there," she said, her voice smooth and melodic, floating through the air like a soft breeze. It had a breathy quality that stirred something within me, a tantalizing mix of sweetness and confidence that was both enchanting and puzzling. I found myself caught, ensnared in the delicate web of her words. "Hello," I managed, my tone a touch unsteady as I scrambled to regain my composure.
"I'm here for the interview," she declared, her tone laced with an endearing sheepishness. "I planned a dramatic entrance, you know? This, however, is a bit less than what I had in mind." A small smile crept onto my lips, betraying the amusement bubbling within me.
"You're late," I pointed out, trying to maintain an air of authority despite her spellbinding charm.
"I know, I know," she said, her voice tumbling out in a flurry of breathless honesty, still reclining against my chest. "I missed my bus! And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I broke my heel sprinting here." Her words poured out like a waterfall, urgency stitched into every syllable, adding to her captivating allure. "The guy downstairs? What a total hardass. He wouldn't let me up, kept insisting that the office closed at six. So, I waited until he was distracted and whoosh up I went, all ten floors!" She looked down momentarily, then back into my eyes, a spark of rebellious excitement dancing in her gaze. "Ten floors, just to get here."
"Even with all that," I said, barely managing to suppress a grin, "you're still late."
"Come on, I'm begging you!" Her eyes widened as she leaned in closer. "Please let me interview. Just talk to your boss. Surely you can convince him to bend the rules a little?" Her pleading tone bordered on humorous, and I fought to keep my stern facade intact, my expression hardening as I grappled with the tempest of emotions swirling within me.
I leveled my gaze at her, keeping my voice steady. "I am the boss," I said, letting the weight of the revelation hang in the air, watching as her eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh," she whispered, her voice dropping to a near hush, her surprise palpable as the realization washed over her. "Well, that's… awkward." The swift transformation of her expression from sheepish to utterly shocked was almost endearing, and in that one fleeting moment, she managed to charm away the remnants of my irritation, leaving behind a strange sense of intrigue, an unexpected twist to an otherwise ordinary day. "So, am I going to be fired for my entrance?" she teased, her eyes glinting with playful challenge, leaving me wondering if she might just be the wild card I didn't know I needed.