Subject:Re: Excelsior Parks — Interview
Dear Ms. Minami,
Shall we say 16 June at 13:00 UK time?
Regards,
M. Banks
I quickly do the math.That’s eight a.m. here in Massachusetts. It’s early for me, but totally manageable. My heart thuds in my chest as I reply.
Subject:Re: Excelsior Parks — Interview
Dear Ms. Banks,
That would work perfectly.
Best,
Kaori Minami
I hit Send again.This is really happening.
As I watch the message disappear from my outbox, my brain drifts toward the interview. What can I say to the Excelsior Parks panel that will make me stand out from everyone else? I wish I could ask what they saw on my CV so I knew how to prepare. Will they ask about my technical classes? My thoughts on their flagship attractions? Or will they dive straight into the math behind the coaster designs in my portfolio?
There are so many ways it could go. I close my laptop and slip it into its protective sleeve. At least I know one thing for certain—I scored this interview on my own merits.
“Princess” didn’t appear anywhere on my CV eventhough I could’ve listed it under work experience. That may be who I am, but it’s not who I want the world to see.
The next twoweeks pass by in a blur. It’s graduation week, but all my spare time and energy have gone into giving myself a crash course on Excelsior Parks. I’ve memorized their past projects, their design philosophy, their development timelines, and even their stock performance.
You never know what might be helpful. Random facts have saved the day before, like the time my father hosted the German chancellor. Papa had to step away and tasked me with entertaining him. I knew the chancellor was a dog person, but I wasn’t sure if he actually had any.
So I took a shot in the dark and mentioned a few facts about Weimaraners, the only breed of German dogs I remembered. The next thing I knew, he’d handed me his phone so I could scroll through the album of his three dogs. Which were, you guessed it, Weimaraners.
On the morning of June 16, I’m wake up at three a.m., and I down an entire pot of green tea as I triple-check my notes, my setup, my lighting.
I catch my reflection in the darkened window of my microwave and pause. My jet-black hair, usually down, is pulled back into a practical, no-nonsense knot at the nape of my neck. I lean in closer to the door, adjusting the purple frames of my Tiffany glasses.
I’ve always preferred them to contacts; they feel like a shield between me and the world. They frame my dark-brown eyes in a way that makes me look more like a serious academic and less like the girl whose face used to appear on the back of Japanese newspapers.
At 7:55, my body is buzzing with excitement. I’m having a difficult time sitting still as I log into my email and click the link to the video call Mara Banks sent me. My heart thuds wildly against my ribs as the screen flickers to life, revealing a virtual meeting room with two faces already present.
One is a woman, whom I assume is Mara Banks herself. Her expression is warm and professional. She looks like she’s in her early thirties and is wearing a black-and-white striped top.
The other person is a man in his late fifties who reminds me of one of my MIT professors. He has a crown of unruly salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose.
“Ah, Ms. Minami. Thank you for joining us,” Mara says. “We’re waiting on one more person. I hope your day is going well so far.”
I nod and flash a tight smile. “Yes. It is.” For a horrifying few seconds, I suddenly can’t think of a single thing to say to these strangers. “Um... how’s the weather?”
I hold back a wince. I couldn’t think of something more interesting to say?
Mara smiles, a more natural one than mine. “We’re getting a bit of sun today.”
“About time.” The engineer with glasses exhales. “We’re all a bit vitamin D deficient in this office. Well, most of us.”
I force a nervous laugh. A few alarm bells ring in my head. How can I follow up with that?
