“I get pushed down for what I’ve earned. Ridiculed, and told I’m not ready for what lies ahead in a career—because I’m a woman. And while that may be the consensus of society, it’s incorrect. I’ve proven such. I’ve worked ten times harder than everyone else I’ve encountered in my programs and throughout life, because I’ve had to. There’s no other way I would’ve gotten here.
“So, with all honesty and respect, sir, I want this internship because I deserve it. I earned it. And if I don’t get it, that’s fine. But the skillsets I’ve honed tirelessly throughout the years will prove to be indispensable in this industry one day. Whether that be at Xion Group or elsewhere.”
I don’t stutter. My heart is beating out of my chest and every part of me feels on fire, but not a word was tripped over. The countless years I’ve spent working towards my goals, didn’t amount to quantitative analysis or trading firms. It amounted to that.
Mr. Barlowe and Mr. Carnegie don’t say anything. Blinking silently, staring at me like I’ve ranted off in a language they don’t understand. They might not understand. Regardless, they listened, because I earned a place where I deserve to be listened to.
The third official, however, isn’t just staring. The corners of his lips pull up slowly, into a tilted smile. Not the condescending kind I’ve become accustomed to.
This one is charged with acknowledgement and respect. I swear I’ve seen it before. Not in person, I don’t think, but maybe in a video? Or a photo?
He taps his fingertips on the table and chuckles. “That’s a very interesting answer, Ms. Mendoza. It’s the first time I’ve asked such a question. I didn’t have anything prepared for your interview, you see. I didn’t feel the need. I’ve been looking closely at the applicants since the beginning of our screening process, and I have to say. You’re right. You do exceed your peers by quite a bit.”
The man lazily points at the paperwork his colleagues have finally stopped passing back and forth. They hand it over wordlessly. Heads titled down at an angle that can’t imply anything but subordinacy.
Instant respect. A familiar face. Claims to be deeply, but silently, involved with the Brookstone internship process.
A wash of realization runs over my body. My mouth pulls into a smile. I know where I’ve seen this man.
The Xion Group website. Multiple news articles. Headshot paired with headlines along the lines of,“Xion Group Welcomes New CEO…”
“You’re Michael Newman. The Xion CEO and Brookstone-”
“Brookstone alumni, yes. This internship was something I was looking forward to since I began at Xion. I thought I’d have a harder time deciding which student we gave the position to this year, but you made it pretty easy from the start.”
With a small laugh, he hands the pages over to me and stands from the table.
“Unless they’re something you’d like to discuss, I won’t have my colleagues here waste anymore of your time asking pointless questions. I’m not sure why they feel the need to quiz you, when your experience and test scores show you are far above our expectations for a candidate.”
I rise. Quicker than the two men who suddenly can’t look me in the eye.
Their boss reaches his hand over the large wooden table and smiles.
“It’s been such a pleasure to have met such a respectable woman. Thank you for your time, Ms. Mendoza. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us very soon.”
thirty-three
LOCKE
I’ve gotpancit down to a science.
Rice noodles, vegetables, meat. Grant’s recipe blog uses beef, but Rosie likes shrimp so that’s what I go with. Ghost appreciates the small pieces I not-so-accidentally drop, too.
Cooking is fun. It’s rewarding to see the product of your own hard work, and even better to share it with someone you know will appreciate the time you spent. A lifetime of this is one I would be thankful for every day.
The noodles are nearing a perfect brown as the front door swings open, the love of my life beaming while she walks in and turns this apartment into a home.
I grew up with more money and privileges than one person will ever need, but right now, this is the richest I’ve ever felt.
“Welcome home, Princess.”
The stove clicks when I switch it off. It takes me two long steps to get across the space of our kitchen and straight to my girl, her belongings dropped carelessly onto the floor and hands thrown open for me.
“I missed you.” Rosie mumbles when lean down to press our lips together.
I have to force myself not to get lost in the short welcome home kiss, and wonder how lucky I am to have her as a partner for the rest of my life. “I missed you more.”
“You didn’t.”
