The Billionaire’s Assistant

In a room brimming with ambitious individuals, all eager to elevate their social status, clear debts, and have some extra cash, I found myself clutching my bag nervously, desperately trying to conceal my gown's unintended brevity. Sitting on the leather couch made the gown shorter as opposed to when my roommate sold the idea to me to wear it for this interview. The atmosphere was cool, and the setting exuded a serene aura, a welcome change from my previous job at the sweltering McDonald's kitchen. Having changed jobs four times within a year of moving to British Columbia from Nigeria, I couldn't afford to be picky this time. I yearned for a fresh start and a stable opportunity. This interview, my sixth in search of that ideal job, seemed promising, even amidst the sea of formally dressed contenders. As I waited for my turn, doubts about my lack of experience as an assistant crept in, but I resolved to face the challenge head-on. After all, how hard could it be? The excitement and anticipation in the air made me feel like I was on the verge of a life-changing opportunity. The receptionist was a petite girl who sat at the reception only standing up to call the next candidate with her intense British accent that made everyone look twice given her appearance that spoke loudly of her Asian descent. “Karen-happuch Olu-wa-tobi?” “Yes!!” I replied quickly before she gets the chance to murder my name again. Aside the fact that she murdered my name terribly, the sound of my name also made my heart jumped to hide behind my stomach for safety. My heart skipped a beat, and I hurriedly confirmed my identity before she could repeat the name m******e. Soon, it was my turn to enter the office, but my anxiety grew as I observed candidates leaving in rapid succession, barely having a chance to sit down before they were dismissed. My fear intensified when I witnessed a girl exit the room in tears, as if she had been through a harrowing experience inside. Attempting to compose myself, I stood up and discreetly checked my dress for any embarrassing sweat marks from sitting for too long. The receptionist's unsettling smile hinted at something ominous, and I felt like a lamb being led to the s*******r as she guided me into the room. “Don’t just stand there, sit,” the mysterious man with a deep voice said from across the table. Inside, the atmosphere felt charged with tension. I couldn't shake the feeling that this interview was going to be unlike any other, and I braced myself for the unexpected twists that lay ahead. As I took a seat at the table, the interviewer's eyes bore into me with an intimidating aura, exuding a sense of pride that seemed unwarranted for someone in an official position. In Nigeria, where I hailed from, we called this demeanor "agidi" - a Yoruba word that roughly translates to pride. The idea of such an overconfident person holding such a position made me uneasy. When the questioning began, the interviewer wasted no time in pointing out the shortcomings of my application – scanty certificates and lack of relevant experience in the field. “Your certificates are scanty and you don’t have any experience in this field. What made you think you could apply for the job?” As he probed further, I couldn't help but think in my native pidgin English, expressing my frustration internally. “See me see trouble? I see advert and submit application you dey here dey speak English” I said in my head in pidgin English, the only language I could subconsciously think in. It translated as “I submitted the application for the job as a result of the advert placement I saw on your site I did not think it would cause an uproar”. He inquired about my current job at a fast food place, but I clarified that it was only night shifts, hoping it wouldn't diminish my chances. However, his expression as he glanced over my documents indicated his clear disappointment. My qualifications were limited to my West African examination certificate from Nigeria and various work experiences since I arrived in British Columbia. The bombshell came when he asked about my master's degree, which I didn't possess. My roommate and I had rehearsed for this very moment, but the revelation seemed to shatter any remaining hope. “You don’t have a masters degree?” He asked. “Sadly no” I said in the same tune my roommate and I had practiced last night. “We only take masters degree holders for this job I am afraid” the interviewer said. “Masters degree?? For an assistant job” I exclaimed. “Is there a problem?” He asked My disbelief was evident as I questioned the requirement of a master's degree for an assistant job. A palpable tension filled the room as I dared to challenge the norms, leaving the interviewer to address my concerns. In a burst of frustration, I nearly blurted out my disbelief at the interviewer's assumption that I would need a master's degree for an assistant job. However, I managed to hold my tongue, attempting to remain composed. But soon my patience wore thin. I couldn't contain my true feelings anymore and let my words flow unchecked. I challenged the company's hiring practices, exposing their misleading promises of promotions and revealing the nepotism that plagued their higher-level positions. You know that an assistant job in this company is prestigious and a stepping stone to other great career prospects” he said. “Story” I said. “Excuse me?” He asked. I was about to shiver and say nothing just as I was taught to do by my friends during an interview while looking timid but that was far from my personality and it was clear I wasn’t getting this job as this interviewer with his “agigi” had hinted it multiple times in just one minute that there was no way I was getting this job. “We both know that is the strategy you use to employ and underpay staff promising them a promotion that definitely never comes to pass. The well paying positions on the company will still be filled by nepotism. By people who are still in high school just waiting to get into college and graduate college would still come and be appointed to those prestigious positions you speak of”. “Now tell me, how many people in this company have been promoted from this position to a higher one? Is there anyone that has been able to head there own department?”. I asked. With boldness, I highlighted the qualities essential for the job, which I had acquired through real-life experience in my mother's stall back in Nigeria, skills that weren't reflected on my resume due to conventional expectations. I bid the HR manager farewell with some blunt advice on reevaluating their hiring criteria, urging them to prioritize essential qualities over irrelevant degrees. Qualities like organization skills, tact-fullness, a good memory. As I left the office, I greeted the receptionist and wished the other candidates good luck, even though deep down, I knew there was little chance they would have the same boldness to confront the system like I did. Leaving the office, the rush of empowerment I had felt earlier dissipated, leaving me drowning in the overwhelming mess of my situation. The urgency of renewing my visa loomed, and without a decent job or means to pay my school fees, I was trapped in a nightmarish cycle. I had already deferred two semesters this year, and another delay could jeopardize my visa application. My current job barely covered my basic expenses, leaving me with barely enough to survive after rent and utilities. Thankfully, my roommate's well-off parents allowed some leniency giving me more time to pay rent and contribute less for groceries. I knew I couldn't rely on them forever. The realization that I was deep in trouble weighed heavily on my heart. Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed the bus, and I quickly hastened to catch it before the doors closed. The buses in my home country would wait for passengers, driven by profit, but here, they showed no mercy. If you weren't at the door on time, tough luck – the bus would leave without you- them no send you at all. A cultural shock I had to adapt to. As I boarded the bus, the contrast between my previous audacity and my current vulnerability struck me. With my future hanging by a thread, I had to find a way to break free from this cycle of uncertainty and seize any opportunity that would lead me to stability and success.