Chapter 2: Interview competition
I went to the interview. I was not the only candidate. A blonde sat in the waiting area, as she waited for her call for the interview session.
"You're here for the interview?" the faux blonde flaunting her vanity in a crystal-studded compact mirror directed the question to me. The atmosphere made me nervous, already.
By the way she protruded her lips into a pillowy pout, she was clearly exasperated by my presence.
Just a minute ago, I had noticed the woman tending to her lengthy lashes. She already had lengthy lashes, but she still applied waxy black mascara to the tips. The silver mascara tube tumbled into her turquoise Coach purse.
Then, she pulled out the tube of lipstick. She already had lurid lips, but she still twisted the top off that tube and slathered the moist color across her lips. In pure fascination, I spied on the wannabe star reporter sitting across from me in the cafeteria.
"Yes, I am," I sheepishly answered my competition.
Snapping her compact mirror together, the woman ironed her dyed blonde strands with her manicured fingernails.
"What's your name?" she inquired, almost hostilely.
"Cecilia." Though taken aback by the woman's tone, I decided to play along.
"What's your name?" I asked.
After a sly once-over at my competitor, I wondered if my talent would be eclipsed by my raw appearance.
"Chunhua Chang," she annunciated her alliterative name as she straightened her posture. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I can't wait to be a reporter here."
I nodded.
We were both professional twenty-somethings, equipped with bachelor's degrees in broadcast journalism, vying for the same position as the newest reporter to join the Chinese Award-winning team at the #1 television news station in the region. We were both desperate to attain the job amid the dwindling opportunities in the lackluster economy.
In retaliation, I pulled out my broken compact mirror from the plain black purse and used it as a shield. I only had the half with the mirror. It also had a little crack, but it got the job done. I never really used it, unless something flew into my eye or something wedged itself between my teeth.
But I wanted to let Chunhua Chang know that I was consumed with my looks as well and had the ideal appearance of a TV reporter. A smudge of my burgundy matte lipstick somehow ended up on my cheek.
"I could help you reapply your lipstick," Chunhua's voice rose above the mirror.
"No, my lipstick is fine." I said as I imagined myself snatching Chunhua's hair extensions out. I shook the image away in disbelief that drama was brewing at my first post-grad job interview.
"OK…" Chunhua reopened her mirror and pretended to check her teeth for pieces of food she didn't even eat. She just wanted to gaze at her dazzling smile again.
I took a tissue out of my purse, spit on it, and placed it on the smudge. All I wore was the lipstick and foundation to cover up the stress-induced acne.
I wanted to keep perfecting my practically nonexistent makeup as I waited to convince an associate news director to hire me because I am responsible, hardworking, and skillful. Those three adjectives rarely fail at an interview.
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