I Walked 7 Miles In The Rain To An Interview — And The CEO Saw Everything
Part 1
I stood in the dark of my tiny kitchenette at five in the morning and weighed the cost of my pride against a single dollar.
The math of my life had become a brutal, unending series of these choices.
Bus fare or the electric bill.
Laundry detergent or the final two days on my prepaid phone plan.
I had saved exactly enough for a one-way trip on the city transit system.
If I took the bus to the interview, I would have to walk the seven miles back to my apartment.
If I walked there instead, I could ride home like a person who actually belonged in the world.
That was the lie I told myself.
The truth was simply that if I didn’t get the job, I would need that dollar more than ever.
I leaned over the counter and listened to my six-year-old daughter breathing softly on the pull-out couch.
Katie had asked me why I needed to leave before the sun came up.
I told her I was going to bring us back something good.
She gave me a skeptical look before demanding the kind of good that came with a grassy yard.
I kissed her forehead, locked the door behind me, and started walking toward the towering glass structures of the financial district.
The sky broke open past the fourth mile.
It was a sudden, violent summer downpour that turned the morning into a gray wash.
I had no umbrella and no coat.
My only good interview blouse soaked through entirely within three blocks.
The water ran down my spine and pooled in my cheap brown shoes.
I wrapped my resume folder twice in a plastic grocery bag and clutched it against my ribs.
Every passing car kicked up waves of dirty street water onto the sidewalk.
I kept my chin tucked and counted my steps to block out the cold.
A massive transit bus hissed past me in the far lane.
I did not turn my head to look at it.
I forced my feet forward and ignored the heavy, stinging drops hitting my face.
At a major intersection, a sleek black town car idled at a red light.
Its surface was so pristine that the rain seemed to slide right off.
I kept walking past it without a second glance.
My mind was entirely focused on the forty-one thousand dollar salary listed in the job description.
That number represented a bedroom with a real window for Katie.
It meant grocery trips where I didn’t have to put back the fresh fruit at the register.
Another wave from the gutter hit me directly above the knee.
I dug my thumbnail into the palm of my hand to stop myself from crying.
No one in the financial district cared if you were weeping or simply drenched.
I just needed to reach the building.
The lobby of the corporate tower felt like the inside of an icebox.
Everything was constructed from pale, intimidating marble.
I walked through the revolving doors and immediately left wet, muddy footprints across the pristine floor.
A security guard glanced in my direction and quickly looked away.
A woman holding an expensive coffee gripped her cup tighter and sped up her pace.
I approached the reception desk with water dripping from my ruined hem onto my shoes.
The young man stationed there wore a perfectly tailored suit that had clearly never seen a drop of weather.
His name tag identified him as Tyler.
He scanned me from head to toe with the kind of practiced disgust reserved for stray animals.
I set my dripping grocery bag on the counter.
A small puddle instantly began to spread across the marble.
I stated my name and my appointment time in a voice that I forced to remain entirely level.
Tyler paused to look at the water slowly encroaching on his keyboard.
He pointed out that it was raining outside.
I clenched my jaw and refrained from pointing out the obvious in return.
Instead, I politely asked him to inform the hiring manager that I had arrived early.
He picked up the phone using two fingers.
His hushed tone carried perfectly across the empty space.
He warned whoever was on the other end that the candidate was severely compromised by the weather.
Then he slid a cardboard tissue box in my direction.
I pulled one out, but it turned to useless pulp in my damp fingers within seconds.
The entire lobby seemed to hold its breath as the silence stretched out.
I stood there shivering and trying to remember exactly why I thought I deserved a place in this building.
The shame of my wet clothes burned hotter than the chill of the air conditioning.
A soft chime signaled an arriving elevator.
The heavy metal doors slid apart with a gentle sigh.
A tall man stepped out onto the marble floor.
He wore a charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my entire annual rent.
The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately.
Tyler bolted upright in his chair and nearly knocked over a decorative orchid.
The security guard suddenly found something very interesting to inspect on the ceiling.
The man ignored all of them.
He walked across the lobby with absolute, undeniable authority.
His gaze swept over the trail of water leading from the entrance directly to my feet.
Then he looked at my face.
A flicker of genuine recognition crossed his features.
I had never seen him before in my life.
My throat tightened.
I reached down to grab my ruined grocery bag.
I expected him to instruct security to escort me out the door.
And then the man in the charcoal suit stopped, looked at my ruined shoes, and said exactly what no one in that building was supposed to know.
