Worthless In Their Eyes, Perfect In His

The next day, I didn't wait for my alarm clock to ring before jolting out of bed. Sandra was already up, making a breakfast of pancakes. I hurried dressing up and stood in the mirror, trying to see if I had lost any weight from last night's jogging.

"Goodmorning," I greeted Sandra as I picked out a few pancakes from the tray. No matter how excited I was about the job, it could not stop me from going out without eating.

"Good luck. I pray you get the job." Sandra said cheerfully as she watched me walk out the door as soon as I was done eating.

I clutched my leather bag that was hung over my shoulder. The 8am morning breeze was chilly, making me shiver a little as I walked to the bus stop. In less than 30 minutes, I arrived at Vixen Couture. The environment was even more magnificent than I had seen on their website.

It was a white tall building with glass windows and doors that reflected bright light. From the entrance, red flowers were planted, and a tree was trimmed in a shape that resembled a heart. I showed the security guard my invite and he allowed me inside. Inside was a wide stretch of space. There were green shrubs which were carved to give the word 'V-I-X-E-N-C-O-U-T-U-R-E'.

I couldn't help but stare. It was a modelling company and their environment looked like it could model as well.

I followed the directions given to me by the secretary. I was a bit shocked that she wasn't rude like the one at my father's office. From the experience I had with that bitch, I was forced to believe that all secretaries were rude.

"You're number 50 for the interview."

"Alright. Thank you." I responded, taking the number tag which she offered me. After hearing my number, I began to wonder if it would be possible to secure the job when lots of people were applying. From what the girl seated by my side told me, there were sixty people who applied for the position.

Then, I saw a man from afar, stepping out of the car. He looked like the man that helped me last night. The only difference was that he wore a suit and dark sunglasses as well. Could he be working as a model? If he was, I wouldn't be surprised because his features were perfect.

"Number 50, please come inside."

"Yes ma'am." I responded and headed into the room where the interview was conducted.

"Ruby Philips?" The woman asked, lifting her gaze from the paper in her hand and focusing on me.

"I'm the one."

"You may have a seat."

I sat down, watching her flip through papers, and wondering what questions she had for me.

"We plan to employ just five cleaners, and I'm not sure if you'd make it."

I swallowed hard, this was the statement I dreaded the most.

"We have picked four people already, and I have to interview numbers 51 to 60, before I can make a final decision."

"Ma'am, I assure you I'm the best for this job,"

She smiled briefly at me and was about to say something before the phone rang and she picked it.

I couldn't hear what the other person was saying, but I heard her say 'okay sir' repeatedly.

"You wouldn't be given the cleaning job anymore."

I took a deep breath, feeling all my hopes shattered. How exactly would I help Sandra around the house without a job? Hunting for another job wouldn't be easy.

"A man called, saying that he knows you, and I should give you a better offer."

My face lit up in an instant as I was taken aback by her statement.

"Does anyone here know me?" I questioned, because I didn't know anyone except Sandra and my family.

Roselyn nodded her head. I had read the name on her desk, and even though she didn't tell me her name, I knew it.

"I would fill you in for the position of a receptionist instead. It also has better pay."

My jaw slacked a bit as I processed Roselyn's words.

"Would you accept the offer or..."

"I accept it." I said, cutting her short without noticing. I felt like if I delayed a bit, the offer would be taken back.

"Okay. I would just fill your file so you can begin work soon,"

I tried hard to resist the urge to shout and throw both hands in the air. While she was still writing on the paper, a thought came into my mind. I didn't know who this person was.

"Do you mind if I know who the friend is? I mean the person who said he knew me."

She handed over the file to me. "It contains everything you need."

I nodded my head and thanked her, still expecting a reply to my question.

"The Mr. chooses to be anonymous. You know how philanthropists are. Just don't bother about him. Your job is secured."

After I filled in the day I would resume, which is in two days, I left her office with my file in my hand.

I came across the man who wore the dark sunglasses earlier. He was walking in the opposite direction. His sunglasses were off and I could see those emerald eyes. He was the same man who scared the rogues away.

He passed me without uttering a single word. A thought crossed my mind and I wondered if he was the one who told the interviewer that he knew me. I brushed the thought away, he couldn't possibly be the one. After all, he didn't know me.