There I was, standing before a towering skyscraper, its glass panels shimmering in silver and sky blue...plus a few other colors I can’t be bothered to name.
“Magnificent” barely cuts it.
I tugged at my black suit trousers, adjusted my matching blouse and jacket, then out of habit-twisted my ankle slightly.
Don’t ask me why; I always do that.
My royal-blue trainers grounded me. Shoulders high, folder clutched tight, I tilted my head back to savor one last kiss from the autumn sun as it lingered on my long braids, tied neatly into a low bun.
(Yeah, I know. This sounds like the opening to every CEO cliché. Hopefully, mine stands out.)
“Good morning. Can you state the purpose of your visit?” The receptionist...a tall, blonde, petite woman smiled up at me, perfectly polished.
“Hi, I have an induction scheduled for 10 a.m.,” I said.
“Great.” She flashed flawless white teeth framed by full pink lips. “Fill out this form, then go straight down the corridor, turn right, and it’s the fifth door on your left.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks betrayed me with a curve they call a smile. Genuine? Not really. My smiles rarely reach my eyes. They’re usually just polite gestures of respect.
As she moved on to the next visitor, I couldn’t help but wonder: how does anyone survive saying the same words, every single day? If it were me, I’d lose the last fragile strand of reason holding me back from the psych ward.
I followed her directions until I stood before a large white door marked in bold black letters: Trainees.
Just as I reached for the handle, a voice spoke behind me.
“Are we going in already?”
I turned to find a tall guy, maybe 5'9, with a few others trailing behind him.
“I don’t know,” I said, aiming for casual. That’s when it hit me...I was overdressed. Everyone else was in grey and blue business-casual. No wonder they’d stared when I walked in. They were probably thinking, ‘Oi, miss alien, this isn’t a runway show.’
We waited together until our trainer arrived. A short woman, around 5'5, with sleek black hair and an accent that made her English sharp and intriguing.
Inside, there were ten of us. Nine trainees, one trainer. Eight men, and me. The lone woman.
And here’s the thing: being the only woman in a room full of men draws attention. The more mysterious you act, the more they notice. Something about holding that quiet dominance gave me a warm, amused tickle in my chest.
The PowerPoints? Torture. I’m convinced I slept through three-quarters of them. During breaks, I caught whispers. Most were about me. Not to sound self-righteous, but yes, they were. I pretended not to notice. Honestly, the only thing I cared about was collapsing in bed later, belly full.
Madeley, our trainer, eventually led a tour of the company. “Grand” and “Gorgeous” don’t even begin to describe it. And somewhere along the way, I realized why the men stared. My blouse hugged my chest; my trousers outlined my hips and back. My waist? Practically nonexistent. I silently thanked my family’s genes. I hadn’t dressed for attention, but apparently, I’d gotten it anyway.
Group activities followed. Being paired with me earned my teammates more than a few jealous glares. Which makes me sound like an attention seeker...but it was coincidence. A lucky one.
By 3 p.m., induction was over. We were split into smaller groups for department training. Mine had two guys: Sam and Hasib.
I didn’t know which was which until one of them asked, “Who’s Taritia?”
I turned, caught their smiles, and returned one of my own. Curious? Embarrassed? Hard to tell.
Either way, our story was about to begin.
