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“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I’ve decided that I want to quit my job in New York City,” I said, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. “This decision took a long time to reach. With the death of my mother things just came into perspective for me. I don’t think that I can continue with you guys there. I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Really? This is surprising but I can understand your plight. If you change your mind you can always call me, you are one of my best employees and it would be a sad thing to see you go.” She replies coolly, her voice a bit detached.
“Thank you, Brie, I just can’t do this anymore. I believe things will be better here for me.” I added, saying the last part to assure myself.
I could hear her making encouraging sounds as I spoke, and then said, “Well, Samantha, I’m sad to hear that you’re leaving us, but I understand that you have to do what’s best for you. Just let me know what I can do to help with the transition.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that. I think we can discuss more on the other formalities regarding my resignation. Since I am not in New York I won’t be able to do it face to face. As for any of my personal materials at the office you can give them to anyone who needs them.” I said, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.
We talked for a few more minutes, discussing the logistics of my resignation and what needed to be done before I could officially be let go from the company. I hung up the phone feeling a mix of emotions: sadness for leaving my colleagues, excitement for my new life here. It will be tough rebuilding my life here. Friends I grew up with have moved to bigger cities for more opportunities, but I felt like I could make something out of the life I will have here. A sense of peace knowing I was finally taking control envelopes me.
Successfully resigning was just the first step. For over a month now, I’ve been in Salt Lake City. My personal savings in running low from just the upkeep of the house and other necessities I needed. I need a job but this town is small and can hardly afford the pay I will need considering my level of education. Nonetheless, the bills are piling up, and I’m not sure how much longer I can survive without a steady income.
I’ve been sending my resume to every job opening I can find, attending job interviews, and even walking into businesses to hand in my CV, but nothing seems to be working. I even went to the local employment agency, but they didn’t have any openings that match my skills. Frustrated, I ask Mirabel for help. She is working as a manager at a tourist resort and she tried to find an opening for me but that also fell through.
As the days passed by, I started to feel discouraged. I was running out of money, and I was not any closer to finding a job. I was close to regretting my decision, maybe quitting my job so soon wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I wasn’t suited to such a small town. My self-confidence was taking a hit, and I was beginning to feel like I’m not good enough for any job.
I rolled out of bed to get out of the depressing turn my thoughts were taking. I opened the door and walked briskly to the kitchen and made myself coffee. I moved to the window and stared out at the trees enjoying the view. The sun was giving the leaves beautiful shades that I felt if I was an artist the scene would inspire me. I finished my coffee and walked to the backdoor, stepping out.
I walked through the tree-lined path that led to the open land on my family’s property. It had been years since I had been back here, but the familiar smell of the woods and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind brought back so many memories. Particularly, the memories of my parents, who had always dreamed of turning this land into a farm. They usually joked around with the idea. They had a busy life but they were prepared to carry it out. When my father died that plan didn’t happen and I dreaded bringing it up because it hurt my mom.
As I reached the clearing, I looked out at the open expanse of land. It was beautiful, with rows of weeds and flowers I could not name, carpeting the land. A few paces away, a stream that flowed through straight from the mountains, down to the land, follows a track winding in an S shape halfway through the land till it disappears further than I can see. I have not tried to trace where it ends. The stream rarely dies up. I could see why my parents had been so drawn to it.
I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to have a farm here. To grow crops and raise animals. To live a simple life, close to nature. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was what I wanted. This was what my parents had wanted. Maybe in a few years I’d find the one I love and we’d get married. We could live here with our children. The vision seemed so ordinary I feared it might not be real.
I opened my eyes and walked towards the old shed where my parents kept their tools, which they used to care for the plants around the house. It was run-down and in need of some serious work, but I could see its potential. I could see the place it could become with a little repair.
I went back to the house and as I walked through, memories flooded back to me, of my parents cooking in the kitchen, of family dinners in the dining room, and of lazy afternoons spent on the porch. It was bittersweet, being in a home that reminded you of the past and what you could have had now if not for the indifference of death.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy to turn this land into a farm, it would be a gigantic venture, even for me. I’d need to learn so much and hire people if I planned to turn this into a business, but I’d have to start small. . It would take a lot of hard work and dedication. But I was willing to do whatever it took. For my memory of my parents, and for myself.
To implement this plan I’ll need money, which I don’t have. The best way would be to get a loan. I decided that I’d go to the bank tomorrow. I was excited seeing as I was one step closer to my dreams.
I woke up early the next day, eager to head to the bank and get the loan I needed to start my farm. I dressed in my black suit skirt with a slot at the back and a gray blouse with white and black floral designs on it. I called a taxi and in a few minutes he was pulling in my driveway. We drove to the bank, and I rehearsed in my head what I would say to the loan officer.
The car arrived at The Event Horizon Bank and the driver was waiting for me to leave. I sat in the car outside the bank, taking a deep breath before getting out. My hands shake as I walk towards the building. I’m here to apply for a loan, something I never thought I would have to do. But my dream farm needs resources, and I need money to make that happen.
As I walked into the bank, I felt a surge of nervousness. The bank was quiet. This town was small, but I didn’t expect it to be this deserted at the bank. In New York, banks were always filled with people having one complaint or another. I could hear the sound of pens scratching against papers. I was immediately struck by the tranquility of the place; the sounds and flow of the soft hum of computers and the tapping of fingers on keyboards. The walls are painted a dull beige, and there are no decorations or artwork to liven up the space.
To my left, I saw several rows of desks, each with a computer and a stack of paperwork. Bank employees sat behind these desks, typing away at their keyboards or talking on the phone. They all wore similar outfits, black pants, and white button-up shirts. Some people were sitting at the desks, and the bank officers were assisting them.
In front of me, I see a large counter with several tellers standing behind it. Ropes and barriers are set up to guide customers to the right teller. The tellers were wearing name tags and smiling.
The air is cool and dry, and I feel a slight chill run down my spine. I can’t help but feel intimidated by the sterile atmosphere. I take a deep breath and remind myself I’m here for a purpose. I walk up to the counter and speak to a lady arranging papers. “Excuse me. I’d like to get a loan, and I don’t know how to go about it?” I asked.
She flashed a quick smile at me. “Here, take this paper and fill it out. After you are done, go to the last row on your right. One of the staff will help you with your request. Welcome to Event Horizon Bank.” Her voice is cool and professional. I said my thanks and took the paper; filling in my necessary details, I headed over to the place she indicated.
I made my way to the loan officer’s desk and introduced myself. “Good morning. I’m Samantha Carter. I’d like to process a loan. Here are some relevant papers.” I had done my research, so I brought papers that would increase my chances of getting the loan.
The loan officer, a middle-aged man with a stern face, spoke. “Welcome. Let me have your papers and see what I can do for you. By the way, how much would you like to apply for?” He asked it as if he was asking about the weather.
I replied, “About half a million or a million. Am I qualified for that?” I asked nervously.
“From these papers, you’re eligible, but I’ll need to check our system for any previous history of loans or whatnot you might have had. What is the loan for, ma’am?.”
“Well,” I swallowed before I started talking, “I need the loan to start a business. It’s a farm on a family land and I hope to grow it from nothing into something more. This was a dream of my parents and also mine.” He asks me some standard questions. What’s the loan for? How much do I need? What will I use the money for? I answer them all with confidence, trying to keep my nerves at bay. But then, he drops a bombshell.
“That’s beautiful.” He taps on his keyboard “Oh. I’m so sorry. I just checked our system and it seems the land you are proposing to use as a collateral for the loan has been used before by Amanda Carter to get a loan due to medical reasons. She borrowed 1.5 million. Before her death, she had paid off $500,000 of the loan. What is left is 1 million. Are you aware of this?” He asked suspiciously and with a hint of pity.
