Have Faith

I hate being late. My hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. There’s a tightening in my chest as I look the never ending traffic jam before me. This is before the times of GPS on our phones given us alternative routes to take. So, I’m just stuck. I used google maps get the directions the night before. Also, I drove up a couple days ago, but I not coming from home today. So, it’s not exactly the same thing. I looked at the directions to familiarize myself with which exit to take, and the names of streets to look out for. I left feeling prepared.

I like to think of myself as a patient person. Traffic normally, isn’t a cause for alarm. I’ll turn my music up, and just wait out. But not today. Today, even I feel rushed. I have an interview for a job I really want. It’s for a Night Manager position in San Francisco. It’s a part-time job and a I get a studio apartment as part of my compensation. 

I did everything right. I drove to the location over the weekend, so I could get an idea of where to park. I laid my clothes out last, and put them in the car, so that I could change into them after my last class at San Francisco State University. The only thing I couldn’t predict was the traffic. I don’t anything about the traffic in San Francisco. 

“Maybe, I shouldn’t even go now.” I say aloud. “What are the chances of getting the job after showing up late to the interview?”

My armpits start tingling, a sign that I’m starting to sweat. I know that stress sweat smells worse than normal sweat. I smell my left pit to make sure my deordarant is still working. So, far so good. I’m still fresh. I look at myself in the rear view mirror. I smile. My brown skin is flawless. My teeth are perfect. I take a deep breath.

“No, the job is mine. I believe it’s mine. I want it. And if it’s mine, really mine then it’s still mine. It won’t matter that I’m a few minutes late.”

I remind myself that I have help. Jessica, my mom’s friend found the position for me. She’s already talked to David about me. The interview is just a formality. I got this. I can do this job.

I turn the music off, and reach for my phone. 

“Hello David, this is Nichole Campbell, and I’m looking forward to meeting with you.” I force myself to slow down, and breathe normally. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sitting in traffic. I am on my way.”

“Ohhhh kay. How far away are you?”

“I’m not sure. In normal traffic I’m almost there. I’d been there in about ten minutes.” i know that because of my drive up the other day. I feel so smart. I knew it was a good idea to make that extra trip. “But unfortunately traffic is dead locked. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

I wince at how unimpressed he sounds. I can hear the doubt in his voice. He hangs up without saying goodbye or anything. 

“The job is mine. So, it’s still mine.”

At a snail’s pace I maneuver through traffic. Forty minutes after my phone call I pull up to the apartment complex. I was planning to park on one of the surrounding alleys, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about meters. But I don’t want to take even more time hunting for a place to park. So, I pull up to a meter, and hope that I have enough change. I only have seventy-five cents. I say a silent prayer that it will be enough. I put in my change and it gives me eighteen minutes. I feel panic-stricken. I want the interview to go well. Eighteen minutes isn’t enough time. He know that I’m rushing, and after I made him wait all this time. I catch myself, and take a deep breath.

“All is well. My car is fine. All is well.”

I walk up to the front gate and push the button for the front desk.

“Hi, I’m Nichole. David is expecting me.”

The gate opens. I step into the courtyard, and wait paitently for the front door to open. It does and step inside.

The desk clerk is a heavyset woman with cinnamon brown skin. Normally, I would be happy to see another woman of color, but this one has a fake smile plastered on her face. I do my best to ignore it. “How often do they check the meters. I only had enough for about 20 minutes? I’m Nichole by the way.”

“You said that already. They come by here about once an hour. They just went by about ten minutes ago. So, you should be okay.”

Relief washes over my body. It’s a sign.

David is in his office. It’s on the 3rd floor directly across from the elevator.”

“Thanks.” I look around the lobby. The elevator is stratight ahead, and the door for the stairs is in the far right corner. Normally, I like to take the stairs, but remembering my tingling pits I decide to take the elevator.

I look straight ahead until the elevator doors open. I wait for the doors to close behind me before turning around.

“If the job is mine, it’s still mine.” I repeat quietly to myself.

I step off the elevator just as David’s door opens. I white man walks up to me and extends his hand. His face is stern, but his eyes give him away. 

I take his hand and shake it firmly. “David, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for meeting with me.”

His hard expression melts away and he smiles warmly, and directs me into his office.

All the tension disappears from my body as I step into this office. I know the job is mine.