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I spout off the company memo that I read on Wikipedia minutes ago, lying about how I want a job that will challenge me.
“Are you interested in working for the hospitality industry long term?”
Hell no. “Yes. I would love to.”
He grins at me, nodding. “We have openings in our front desk, housekeeping, and kitchen departments. Which department do you think would be a better match for you?” He’s staring at my chest.
“Housekeeping.”
“You don’t want to work in housekeeping. It’s manual labor.” He shakes his head. “You don’t seem like the type...”
My stomach churns at the dirty look in his eyes. I want to stand up and leave, but I hold my ground. “I’m perfect for housekeeping. I’m an OCD cleaner.” I lie.
He leans forward on his elbows and sighs. “The starting salary for a housekeeper is seven dollars and fifty cents. Kitchen aide is eight dollars, and front desk is nine dollars. I know you lack a college education,” he says as he pushes my resume towards me, “but clearly you can see the better choice...In fact, we’re hiring for our manager mentoring program. It’s a fast track to learning all about the industry.”
“How much does that pay?”
“Sixteen dollars an hour, but you’d have to work alongside your mentor, i.e. me for most of those hours...In very close quarters and very late hours.”
I try not to roll my eyes at this lame and blatant “come on.” I know I should say no, that this asshole is only interested in one thing, but instead I say, “That’s the job I want...”
He smiles and stands up, walking around the desk. He cups my face in his hands and I try not to flinch.
“There are a lot of people who would love this position, Emerald—people who have degrees...experience...” He runs his tongue across his bottom lip and drops his hands to his fly, unzipping his pants. “How will you prove that you’ll do a good job despite having neither of those things?”
He slips a hand into his briefs and pulls out his dick, raising an eyebrow at me.
I look at him in utter disbelief—disgust, but he grins and uses his other hand to run his fingers through my hair.
“Can you show me that you’ll do a good job, Emerald?” The way he emphasizes every syllable of my name makes my skin crawl.
I’m repulsed, but I need this job. Badly.
No stranger to sex, I try to tell myself that this is just a blowjob, which is the lowest type of sex on my scale, but my mouth won’t move any closer.
“I can’t...” I move my head back and look away. “I would like to be considered for the other positions, please.”
“There are no other open positions.” He zips his fly and walks to the door. “We’ll keep your application on file, Miss Anderson.”
“What?”
“We’re done here. You can leave, Miss Anderson.” His voice is cold.
I shake my head and stand up, slowly walking past him. As I move by, I hear him hissing, “Stupid cunt” before he slams the door.
I look at the other women who are sitting in the ballroom’s chairs, wondering how many of them will be offered that same job. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I walk to the front desk in hopes of speaking to another manager; that pig can’t be the sole decision maker when it comes to hiring.
A blonde with bright brown eyes smiles as I approach. “Hello, Miss. How may I help you?”
“May I speak to the general manager please?”
“I’m the general manager.” She smiles wider. “What do you need?”
“Can you...Can you give me some more information about the manager mentoring program? Are there other managers that have available positions under them?”
“I’m sorry.” She takes off her glasses. “Manager what program?”
“The manager mentoring program...It pays sixteen dollars an hour and I would get to work directly under a manager. Right?”
She raises her eyebrow. “We haven’t had a manager mentoring program in years, and no one here gets paid sixteen dollars an hour. Are you supposed to be at the Marriott, hun? It’s right down the street.”
Son of a bitch...
––––––––
I park my car outside my grandparents’ house and pull out my last cigarette. I’m supposed to quit after today, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. Not after the day I’ve had.
After the hotel “interview,” I drove to three more job fairs. I stopped at every table, filled out every application, and shook every hand, but the best responses I received were: “We’ll keep your application on file.” “We’ll be in touch.” “We’ll see you soon.”—i.e. “You’ll never hear from us again.”
