Who is this woman? Why does she need a nanny just for the summer? And why does she refer to her own daughter asthe girl?
"If you do your job well, we're even willing to pay a bonus," she adds, to top it all off.
Earlier I only guessed, but now I know for sure. This thing stinks, big time!
"There are no pitfalls. Sign the confidentiality agreement, and I can tell you more. You'll quickly realize that this job is like winning the lottery." With these words, she pushes herself up from the chair, adjusting the position of her ponytail. "Think about it, but not for too long."
You'll only know what's behind a door when you open it, my father's voice advises me. And he should be on my side.
I watch as the woman waves at me one last time before settling her bill with Annika. As she leaves the café, I'm still watching her.
What if I just go for it?
No. I would never trust that woman in a million years.
To distract myself, I turn to the empty cups on the table. I stack the porcelain into a tower. It's wobbly, but I'll make it to the counter. It's just a few steps. I’m careful when I put one foot in front of the other.
The tower sways.
I pause.
The tower continues to sway.
I need to balance it. With a pounding heart, I move my hands slightly to the side.
And then it happens.
With a deafening crash, the cups shatter on the floor. The fragments soar yards away across the bright laminate tiles. I stand frozen in the middle of the room, clinging to the only saucer that remains in my hand. The guests whistle and applaud with amusement.
Dammit.
"Oh, come on," a disgruntled female voice says, and seconds later, someone exchanges the saucer in my hand for a broom handle. It's Annika. Her cheeks are glowing deep red, her jaw muscles tense. "Have fun cleaning up."
I keep my gaze fixed on the floor as I sweep up every single shard. It's better than looking at the faces of the café visitors who are loudly amused by my clumsiness. I take my time to ensure it's done properly, but when I stand in front of Annika afterward, I don't feel good at all.
"We should have our final conversation." She leans against the counter and doesn't seem inclined to sit down with me.
Suddenly, I don't know what to do with my hands. They don't find a good position; they just hang beside my thighs. Why did I wear the orange leggings today instead of the floral ruffled skirt with deep pockets?
"You're great, Maya. Your cheerful and carefree nature has brought a lot of color to the café. I also like your style." She smiles at me. That's good! "I thought you did a great job interacting with the guests."
I can feel my cheeks getting warm. "Thank you, that means a lot," I say, trying to keep my legs still.
She takes a loud breath. "But unfortunately, the job is not right for you," she says, exhaling all the air from her mouth. "You can't keep up with the pace here. And you make too many mistakes."
That's just because the stupid coffee machine gave me pressure. Just like Annika.
"I would hire you as a server. But the way you handle the cups, disaster is inevitable." Her expression suddenly becomes businesslike. "It was nice meeting you."And that's it for us, her facial expression adds without words.
I force the corners of my mouth upward. "No problem," I say even though that's not the truth. Because dammit, it is a problem.
Where else am I supposed to work? Do I have to go back to working night shifts at the shoe factory? Sleepless nights, sore fingers, and argumentative coworkers included?
Feeling dejected, I leave the café and step onto the street. The afternoon sun blinds me, so with a quick motion, I pull my hat lower over my face and look to the right, then to the left.
So here I am again. Somewhere in nowhere.Pondering, I reach into my handbag for my phone and the black card with the golden inscription.
Maybe I can start by just signing the confidentiality agreement. And if it turns out that nothing is as Tamika portrayed it, I can still step back from the position. But can I really be sure she's telling the truth?
