As the desk receptionist led me towards the interview room, I felt anxious and worried. Am I going to hurl or faint right as I walk in? What if I stutter and the interviewer automatically throws me out? Oh my god,I thought.

I walked into the room and a stoical man in a big red leather chair stared me down and said, “You’re late, Miss Gracie Colmane.” “Yes, I know, and I’m so sorry.” Tears started streaming down my face. O god, no, this is not happening. I grab a tissue off his desk and wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I must be allergic to something in this room.” Good cover, I thought, maybe this won’t go so bad afterall.

The man starts asking me questions about why I think I am fit for this position and what my goals are in life. I answer them as complete and descritply as possibly. He seemed pleased, or maybe it was just my imagination.

“Well, I belive this is all I need. You may leave now, Miss Gracie Colmane.” “Thank you,” I croaked. I left as quickly as possible.