Her palms were clammy. Her heart beat so loudly she feared the security camera above could hear it. *Had she said too much? Or just enough?*
A minute later, the woman returned.
"They're about to interview the second candidate," she said briskly. "I'll squeeze you in after. It's highly unusual, but... let's see how you do."
Elena blinked, her breath catching. "Really?"
"Don't thank me yet," the woman said, motioning to a chair. "Take a seat. I'll call you in."
Elena sat down slowly, a small, grateful smile playing on her lips.
As she waited, she whispered to herself, "Okay, God. One more shot. Let's make it count."
And somewhere downstairs, a man who had handed her a handkerchief and walked off without a name... was just stepping into the executive boardroom.
Elena was finally called into the interview room. Her heart gave a loud thud, but she masked it with a bright, polite smile. As she stepped inside, she greeted the panel with a poised confidence that immediately caught their attention.
"Good morning, sirs and ma'am," she said with a graceful nod, her tone smooth and clear. "Thank you for having me."
Her soft British accent lingered in the room like honey. The three people on the panel exchanged brief glances—her resume had already impressed them, but now, her presence was doing even more.
"Please, have a seat, Miss..." the woman at the center glanced down, "...Elena Morrison."
Elena nodded and sat down, careful not to let the nervous tremble in her hands show. As they dove into the questions, she found herself slipping into rhythm. They asked about her previous roles, how she handled difficult customers, her organizational habits, her flexibility, and her strengths.
Every answer Elena gave came with clarity and humility. She didn't oversell herself, but neither did she shrink.
Then came the question.
"So, Elena," the older man to the right leaned forward, lacing his fingers. "Why Lancaster Estate?"
For a brief moment, she blinked.
This was the question she had prepped for—but the truth... the truth always tried to speak louder.
In that flash of silence, Elena's mind traveled to the cramped flat she shared with her mum, to the sound of her mother groaning in exhaustion after 14-hour shifts at the hospital. She thought about the days she had to skip meals to buy data for her online classes. Lancaster wasn't a dream—it was survival.
But survival didn't sound professional.
She cleared her throat softly, offering a warm smile.
"Well," she began, "I've followed Lancaster Estate's progress for a while now. It's one of the most respected and organized estate facilities in the city. Your reputation for excellence in customer relations and internal support is something I genuinely admire. I believe it's an environment where I can not only contribute but also grow in professionalism and discipline."
There was a pause. The woman in the center raised her brows slightly, clearly impressed.
"And your long-term goal?"
"I'm currently studying for an online degree in Business Administration. My hope is to grow in the hospitality sector, one step at a time. A receptionist may be an entry-level position, but I see it as the frontline representative of any brand. I'd be proud to be that for Lancaster."
There was a soft silence, followed by three smiles.
"Well said," the older man remarked.
"Your credentials are impressive," added the woman. "And your presence speaks volumes."
"We'll definitely get back to you soon, Miss Morrison," the last man on the panel added, standing to shake her hand.
"Thank you," Elena said graciously, rising from her seat.
As she stepped out of the room, her knees wobbled slightly—relief or fatigue, she couldn't tell. But she knew one thing: she had done her best.
She walked out with her head held high, her heart whispering a quiet prayer.
Let this be the beginning of something better.