(Natalie's POV)
The morning air was filled with the smell of fried oil and exhaust fumes. I was already sweating through my blouse as I went job hunting. My outfit wasn't much—a simple black top, a white skirt, and some flats I had borrowed from Lena. That was all I had.
I clutched the folder containing my CV as if it were a lifeline, because it truly was, as I walked into a shop down the street. It was a small boutique, decorated with mannequins dressed in clothes that I knew would take ten years of saving just to afford.
I scanned the store, searching for the manager until I spotted a woman with nails sharper than blades. I approached her slowly and paused when I was just a few centimeters away. "Hi, my name is..." I couldn't even finish my introduction as she barely looked up at me.
"Sorry, we just filled the position yesterday," she replied dismissively. I quickly glanced at the young woman behind the counter, convinced she was the employee I needed to speak to.
Forcing a smile, I nodded and said, "Thank you for your time."
Once outside the shop, I let the smile drop. That was the third rejection I'd faced that day. I tried to reassure myself that better opportunities lay ahead, but I couldn't shake the feeling of despair. It felt as if every door on the block was slamming shut in my face.
By noon, I had lost count of the rejections.
"Sorry, no vacancies."
"Sorry, you don't have enough experience."
"Sorry, we're looking for someone older."
"Sorry, we need someone younger."
Each excuse cut deeper than the last.
At a diner, the owner sized me up before responding, "Sorry, we are not hiring. Try across the street." But when I went across the street, they told me to check back at dinner.
Ugh!
After the tenth rejection, I stopped handing out CVs. Instead, I just stood there, clutching the folder tightly to my chest like a shield, watching people come in and out of offices, restaurants, and stores. They were people with jobs—individuals who had homes to return to and families of their own.
I sank onto a bench, my foot arched, and my throat dry. My entire savings were at the bottom of my bag—crumpled bills that wouldn't even last me a week.
"You look like you lost a dollar, madam?" a man said as he walked past me. He wasn't wrong.
I just wanted to scream, shout, cry, and ask the universe why it's so damn easy for doors to get slammed in my face.
But I couldn't; all I did was sit there, sulking, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk.
By the time the sun started to set, I dragged myself to Lena's. "Even the sun has a job; why can't a human like me get one?" I muttered, continuing to ask the universe why it was being so harsh with me.
Lena was sitting on the counter, scrolling through her phone and listening to music. As soon as I walked in, she looked up, as if on cue.
"Well?" she asked.
I dropped the folder on the table. It hit with a pathetic little thud. "Nothing."
She scowled. "Shit."
I leaned against the wall, too angry to sit. "It's like they see me coming and already know I'm not good enough."
Lena hopped down and wrapped her arm around me. "They don't know anything. You just haven't looked in the right places."
I gave a weak laugh. "And where exactly is that?"
Her grin turned sly. "I've got an idea. But you're not going to like it."