EMPTY

Today was Isioma’s day off of work. She mostly had Thursdays off except in rare situations when she needed to do some ghost-writing, or when she needed to be at work. It was in the brochure and contractual terms she had signed before her employment in Marshmello Printing press. 

Isioma woke up in the early hours of the morning, Her alarm clock beeped twice, and after the third time of snoozing it, the courage to finally face her enveloped her at about eight in the morning.

As she would do before commencing her day, she went down on her knees to pray.

“Thank you, Lord Jesus, for today. That I am alive today is not because it is not by my power that I am here today but because you love and chose me and I do not take it for granted. Thank you for loving me because without your love I do not know where I would be today. Your grace, your love has kept me this far to be very honest.”

While she prayed, she was interrupted by her phone’s ring tone. It beeped. Today was the day she set for her plaiting her hair and visiting the spar. She picked up the phone and saw the notification. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed.

Oftentimes, Isioma hated being interrupted in between prayers. It was something she never liked. She had to apologize to God now. 

“Dear God, I am super sorry for what I have just done. I wanted to talk to you about my boss, Mr. Ross. He seems to be on my matter. He calls me frequently to his office and makes some very annoying facial expressions and I keep asking his secretary, Rania why h is acting this way but she usually does not always have the right word. I am a bit worried. Take control. In Jesus' name, I pray.” She concluded her prayers and was son ready for the day.

Isioma picked up her toothpaste, squeezed the bottom, and placed a pea-size of its content on her blue-colored toothbrush. While brushing, she remembered the day she got shortlisted for her current job and how her interview went.

As a result of her brilliant performance in the Clifford Annual workshop, she got a letter stating how she had been given a prize in form of a job and the interview date was scheduled for later that week. It bothered her a little, why she had to go for an interview when the job was a prize.

Anyway, on that day, she woke up as early as possible. Mama woke her up. 

“Isioma, have you forgotten you have an interview today?”

Immediately after she heard those words, she flew to the bathroom, had fast bathing, sprayed her lavender perfume, and made her way to Broadway street where the company was located. 

On that very day, they were about fifteen people present. Some of the applicants, as Isioma loved to refer to them, were already there sited, waiting for their turn.

 A few of them were journalists transitioning into the writing industry, while the others were writers who had come in search of a writing job. Also was Isioma, a medical doctor transitioning from medical practice to blogging and writing. 

They were all lined up on a long chair painted blue and made of steel with each applicant wearing a tag encrypted with numbers.

When Isioma was called, she met Mr. Ross for the first time.

“How are you doing? Good Morning, Applicant Isioma,” Mr. Mike Ross asked. Isioma placed her hands on her thighs because she was tired from all the standing she had to do that day. Trying so hard not to sit, her legs were shaking and her soon-to-be boss could see it. “You may take your sit”

Isioma sat down, crossing her legs and making sure her red pleated gown was covering her thighs. In the office was a cabinet coated with green paint, a pen holder, and a table whose edges were guarded by metal to prevent it from chipping away. On the wall was a portrait painted of Mike Ross in college as well as his wife. Standing beside it was an antique and a wall clock, which at that time, Isioma thought was very corny. “Who still uses a wall clock in this twenty-first century?” she asked herself.

“So, here in your CV, it says you used to be a medical doctor, who graduated with a first class. Is that true?” Mr. Ross asked. It was very unusual for a medical doctor to leave her job just for what. No medical doctor in his right senses would quit her job only to come and right.

“Nothing sir. I have, all my life, been told what to do. I have been told who to be. I woke up and decided this was not for me and I had to change courses at some point. I enrolled in writing workshops and have been on that path ever since”

 

 

For a second, Mr. Mike Ross began to doubt her credentials. It was absurd and unheard of.  He wanted to get the truth out of her mouth. 

“I will call your university to make sure you studied Medicine and Surgery at the university. It is very unbelievable. I believe you know the punishment for perjury and fraud in Texas. I believe you know the consequences of your action. It is a criminal offense to forge a document that you do not have, let alone put in your curriculum vitae to get a job. Are you certain of what you are saying?”

‘’Yes sir. I can give you the phone number of Professor Milburn, one of my lecturers, he would tell you all of these sirs.”

Although Isioma defended herself, bringing various pieces of evidence and mentioning various witnesses, Mr. Ross still found it hard to believe her.

“Well, by and by, I believe you. So what made you change paths?”

“I believe it is my passion for anything arts and fun, as writing allows me to be myself and to write my own stories. Writing, as it is, allows me to always express myself in my own stories.

“Wow that is indeed impressive,” Mr. Ross added. 

“Do you have any role models? Any writers you look up to?” he asked her.

As someone who loved a lot of African writers, Isioma found it extremely hard to answer. After careful thought, “Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and also JK Rowling,” Isioma said with a sense of conviction deep in her heart.

“Okay. Those are good writers. I read a lot of Chinua Achebe myself.”

“Oh wow. That is interesting. So you are Nigerian is that Not”

“Yes sir, I am Nigerian. I moved to the United States for my education, tertiary education to be precise.”

To a large extent, Isioma’s composure made Mr. Ross feel comfortable. He felt like he could entrust her department to her hands that were the kind of energy he wanted in his company.

At the end of the day, after the interview, Mr. Ross called Isioma and two other ladies, Rania, who would, later on, be employed as a secretary, and Aurora one of the ladies who worked in the advertisement. He called the, to tell them they had already been accepted.

“You ladies have made me proud and I can gladly say I am comfortable with hiring you at the spot. However, I have to make sure that the Human Relations officer goes through all of the credentials. So before next week, you should get your employment contract. In your email” 

Speaking of e-mail, Isioma was sure to check her mail to ensure there was no duty assigned for that day. Thankfully, there was no single task for the day.

Just like her interview day, Isioma sprayed lavender and wore her cloth. “Off to the spar,” she murmured on the way out of her apartment.