3
Freen POV
I’m late.
My very first job interview in Chiang Mai and I’m late.
On the bright side, the incident from the morning could have gone worse. The old man was ok. The young woman in the car was ok.
Her face flashes in my mind briefly.
She was attractive.
…But I’m not looking to start a relationship with anyone. Nat is my number one priority.
And now isn’t the time to be thinking about relationships or the woman from this morning.
Let’s do our best to land this job.
Get Nat into a good school.
Be positive, Freen. Fighting! 😇💪
I push through the double glass doors of the massive building. Armstrong Group Inc. is etched into the wall before the reception area.
I greet the receptionist with a deep wai. “Hi I’m Freen Sarocha Chankimha. Here for the job inter-”
“Ms. Chankimha, we’ve been waiting for you,” a voice behind me interrupts. “Follow me.”
I turn around and step into a spacious elevator, filing behind the person who led me in. Others clammer into the elevator before the doors fall shut.
The elevator ride feels like an eternity as I hold my breath in anticipation.
My pulse thrumming loudly in my ears as we step out of the elevator and into organized chaos.
Hundred of people are seated in folding chairs and standing around the vast floor. All wearing ‘Hello my name is ___’ name tags and dressed in business attire.
I glance down at my flowy white patterned dress, a keepsake of my mother’s. Something this simple is business casual at best.
I eye the blazers and ironed shirts around me, feeling my face flush.
It feels like everyone knows I’m not one of them. That I’m in over my head to think I could compare to their fancy degrees and dress attire.
And I’m starting to believe them.
The whole room stills instantly when quiet sobs bubble up from the corridor farthest from the crowd.
A young man wipes his eyes hastily as he makes a beeline for the elevators.
“Poor guy,” someone whispers beside me.
“You’ve gotta be cutthroat to make a grown man cry like that.”
“Only the strong thrive at AGI, the weak go to Samsung.”
“This is why AGI is the best. Since Rebecca Patricia Armstrong took over, the company has skyrocketed in every industry it dips its toes in. You need real business skills to make it here.”
“Every businessman dreams of working at AGI. Buddha, I hope I get this position.”
“Imagine working under the Rebecca Armstrong. She’s ruthless and crazy beautiful.”
“I heard she’s a stoic, rude and arrogant person. But I respect her business sense. She knows what she’s doing.”
“How can someone be that gorgeous and handsome?!? A face card that never declines.”
“There’s no way either Armstrong sibling would go for any of us. They’re hardly ever romantically linked with other socialites. Celebrities. Business moguls. Nobody’s got a chance. 😮💨”
“To be her personal secretary. I’d pass away and go to heaven.”
Somehow the conversation drifted from the company head’s skills to their looks.
I didn’t have enough time to dive deep into the head of Armstrong Group Inc. but I appreciate the company’s mission.
I imagine the head of the company should embody their company’s mission and goals.
What this person looks like or their personality holds little relevance for me. I probably won’t even meet with them in this entry level position.
Granted, if I even get this entry level position.
“Ms. Chankimha, we’re ready for you,” a steely eyed woman calls for me.
I fidget with my temporary nametag, smoothing down the edges as I follow closely behind the woman.
I try to close my ears to the whispers in the room as I make my way through the empty corridor.
Rebecca POV
Nothing notable about the crop of business hopefuls this time around.
I twirl the pen in my hand as my subordinates discuss the candidates amongst themselves. I trust them to narrow down the hundreds of applicants to a handful that I can pick from to fill some positions in the company. Openings from other employees getting promotions or simply retiring and now I need to fill their protégés’ positions.
I can’t find the drive or passion or motivation from these fresh graduates with their iron pressed suits and new flashy briefcases.
And worst, the applicants who think that bedroom eyes and flirty behavior will get them a position at AGI. Scenarios like that exist only in the movies and have no substance in the workplace.
My nose pricks at the delectable scent as my eyes lift off the notepad.
There she is.
I watch in fascination as her face flashes with something akin to recognition before she schools into a neutral expression.
Interesting.
“Hello, I’m Freen Sarocha Chankimha,” the woman from this morning wais and takes the seat in the center of the room.
Self-assured and confident stride.
A pleasant relief from the earlier candidates who stood awkwardly, waiting to be told they could have a seat.
I sit up straighter and lean closer, arms folded over my notepad.
Mr. Tuntistinchai takes over questioning and the others take diligent notes.
I’m half listening to Freen’s answers. More focused on her body language and the thoughtful pauses she takes to answer the questions.
The interview wraps up nicely and Freen approaches us to shake everyone’s hands.
“Thank you for your time and consideration,” Freen smiles, going down the line.
When she gets to me, I feel like her smile widens a tad bit more. But it could be my imagination.
When she leaves the room, I ask for her file and Ms. Laisuthruklai immediately hands it to me.
“Carry on with the interviews and send me a list of final candidates,” I let them know, thumbing through Freen’s application and CV. “I’ve got other plans for Ms. Chankimha, so go ahead with other applicants.”
They murmur their agreement as I step out of the room and take another exit to avoid the crowded candidate waiting area.
I think it’s time my secretary Nita gets a promotion.
And I’ve got the perfect candidate to replace her.