I leaned against his chair, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s a niche strategy.”
It worked, he typed, his synthesized voice echoing in the quiet office. I’m proud of you. But please don’t become a snob. I will run over your foot.
“Noted.”
A year later, I stood in the same pristine lobby of Pierce Meridian Group. I was wearing a sharp, tailored suit, and my shoes were perfectly intact.
Marcus the security guard gave me a warm nod. “Morning, Ms. Bellamy.”
“Morning, Marcus.”
Near the elevators, I saw a young woman. She was clutching a worn folder, her posture rigid with nerves. Her blazer was slightly frayed at the cuffs, and she had the frantic, exhausted look of someone who had taken three buses to get here.
I recognized that posture. The body remembers the feeling of not belonging long after the mind has conquered the room.
I walked over to her. “Interview?”
She jumped slightly. “Yes. I’m early. I just… I really need this job. I don’t have the traditional background, but I know I can do the work.”
I looked at her folder, then met her terrified eyes. I offered her my hand.
“I’m Nora Bellamy,” I said.
Her eyes went wide. “The… the mud lady?”
I smiled, a deep, resonant feeling of peace settling in my chest. “Among other things. Come on. Let’s walk to the elevator together. And remember—they aren’t doing you a favor by letting you in the room. You are bringing the value. Make them see it.”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders dropping an inch. “Okay. Thank you.”