3 Controlling my nervousness

In the past three months, I had sent out a hundred résumés and cover letters, and this was the only response I received, so it had to be fate.

After earning my journalism degree in Shenzen, I had an epiphany to return to Shanghai and become a TV reporter at my favorite hometown news station, ASIA TV.

Now sitting in the cafeteria with an overambitious rival, I felt my upward mobility in the career world dimming by the moment.

I clicked my black kitten heels together underneath the stain-splattered table in the cafeteria. I started to study the shine along my pointed shoes, but Chunhua's four-inchers distracted me.

Would Chunhua's lips, hair, and shoes nab the job?

It took me ten minutes to find a piece of footwear with a hint of heel in my closet underneath all my running sneakers and Old Navy flip-flops. I turned on the glitz and glamour for the job interview. Well, wearing my polyester black blazer and matching pants with a plain white collared blouse seemed to be upscale compared to all my vintage tees and faded jeans.

My eye again foolishly went to Chunhua, who wore a periwinkle blue skirt suit. Ruffles lined the hem of the knee-length skirt as a peacock brooch sat over her right breast.

She took a nail to vacuum the nonexistent leftover gloss around the curvature of her lips. Chunhua's glitz and glamour switch seemed to be always up.

I softly sighed. I evidently didn't have my switch on.

With pursed lips, Chunhua gave me another artificial smile. A psych-out move.

I, uneasily, smiled with my top lip and bottom lip colliding out-of-sync. My heartbeats smashed into one another. Fresh from cocoons, butterflies flew in my stomach. I wiped beads of sweat from my brow. My anxiety crept up on me.

I didn't want Chunhua to see me sweat. To soothe my nerves, I took a whiff from my collar scented with the latest athlete's fragrance to hit the market. I really tried to inhale confidence from the universe instead of the fragrance. I hoped smelling good would lead to a compliment, then likeability.

The cafeteria door swung wide open with the knob hitting the wall. The startling movement made my heart catapult into my throat.

"Hello," a man holding an ASIA TV coffee mug greeted us. His wiry eyeglasses and untucked plaid button-up shirt was like a uniform in the tech department.

"Hi," Chunhua flirtatiously said with crossing her left leg over her right leg. She pushed a slight giggle.

"Hi," my voice cracked. I cleared my throat with a gurgle I knew they heard, while the tech guy snatched the coffee pot out of the machine and poured the remnants of the brown liquid into his mug.

With a flushed face, I tried to stifle the sound again. I began to secretly pray.

"Here for the interview?" the tech guy jumpstarted a conversation before taking a sip from his mug.

I would love to add the blue and red station mug to my Ikea kitchen décor at my apartment. I imagined the mug always sitting near an espresso machine, which had yet to materialize, to let everyone know that I worked at the top news station in the area. I wondered if the employees actually kept station memorabilia around the house or left it all on their cubicle desks in the newsroom.

"Yes," Chunhua and I said simultaneously. Our over-the-top eagerness made the tech guy laugh.

"Well, good luck," he left the cafeteria to avoid the steam of desperation overtaking the room.

"You really think they're going to pick you?" Chunhua hissed.

"I have a chance just as much as you do," My mood turned from a friendly attempt to a combative tone.

"I have the look! I just have it," Chunhua fell back in her seat in cockiness. "I don't think you have it." She playfully frowned.