Chapter 3. The Phone Call

Her grey eyes anxiously moved around, portraying her anxiety. She was getting breathless with every second, unable to believe her luck. Her fingers were getting shaky, and small droplets of sweat popped at the roots of her hair, even though she was sitting in a chilled room.

Why would God favor her so much?

The question struck her mind again. She fervently hoped that no blunder would occur and she would get the post without any hindrance. If she lost this golden opportunity, she would never be able to gather money for Amna's operation on time.

Her friend would die. Just like everyone around her died. She would be left alone.

This job was a matter of life and death for her. In front of Amna, she often acted jolly and fine, but her internal state was only revealed to her God.

He was the one aware of her sleepless nights full of anxiety. Amna's recovery was on her mind all the time. There was not a single day in her life when she had not worked hard enough to earn some money, even if it was a minor and non-considerable amount. From working as a waitress in cafes and getting subjected to the hungry eyes of men to taking part in every competition her university hosted, she went to all lengths to get a little share of the money. She did everything in her power, but it was not enough.

If she continued to make money at such a slow pace, she was sure that by the time she had the full amount for the operation, Amna would be six feet under the ground. And she would have aged to the point where her youth had long passed. Maybe she would be 40 or 50. Who knows?

She needed to get this job. Merely thinking of the possibility that she wouldn’t be able to get the post increased her anxiety with every second.

"Mr. Atif Ishaq, it's your turn," the calm and professional sound of the woman came from the speaker installed at the top of an automatic door in the waiting room. "Please enter the CEO's office five minutes after the previous candidate returns. Thank you."

The man, Atif, who was next in line, stood up from the comfortable sofa and began to stroll left and right, rubbing his hands together.

She deduced that he wanted this job as much as she did. But she hoped he was not as desperate as she was.

Getting a job at Syed Enterprises was a dream of millions, and getting called for an interview was a golden opportunity in itself. So she could understand the people's aspirations and expectations linked with getting the job in this company. The post of secretary was considered second to the CEO. His secretary should be sharp, able, quick-witted, hardworking, and have a sea of knowledge about everything. The post demanded much, but it also gave much.

After a few moments, the previous candidate, whose name was Ijaz, entered the waiting room. Every eye landed on him. Atif quickly walked towards him and began to ask him questions about the interview and the CEO.

"How was it? What were the questions? Do you think you would get selected? Please tell us about it," he bombarded him with questions.

"Yes, please. What kind of guy was the CEO? Was he nice? Soft-spoken or angry?"

"What do you think are their priorities for selecting someone?" the others asked.

"I don't know, man. I don't know. His face was stoic the whole time. Not even an iota of an expression came on his face. I was clueless whether he was satisfied or not."

"What kind of guy was the CEO?" someone asked again.

"I don't know. But whenever he interrupted you in the middle of your answer, know that you were lying and he caught it. So, I advise everyone beforehand, don't lie. Don't try to show yourself as a master of everything. My answers would collide with my answers, unbelievably," he stated in shock. "They would morph the questions in such a way that my previous answer would be counter to my next answer. They tend to catch lies. Their questionnaire is like that. The same question would be repeated in such a way that you would never know that you answered the same type of question just a few moments ago. So be yourself, be who you are, and don't lie," he advised everyone.

"Thanks, brother," Atif patted his shoulder.

"I guess it's your turn. Now go. Remember, knock before entering and ask permission for whatever you do. Sit with his permission, stand with his permission. Add the phrase 'may I' into your dictionary for the short period of this interview."

"Thanks, man. I'll keep that in check," Atif said, and then he went inside the CEO's corridor that led to his office.

I was told that all five candidates were to wait until the interview of the last person, as they would be announcing the results today and right now.

The applicants went in and out one by one, and everyone continued to listen to their experiences keenly. She inferred that the CEO didn't talk much—a stoic man whose grey eyes were like metallic shards that would pierce into your soul and gauge out your deepest secrets. One would often feel nervous under his penetrating gaze. His austere gaze would make a person think twice about whatever they were saying. And they all experienced the same thing.

It seemed like he ruled the world through his eyes.

Her turn was last in the queue, and now the fourth person, Maham Saleem, had just gone inside. Next was her turn, and she began to squirm already. Nervous, anxious, fearful, and whatnot. She was praying for the best and hoping for the best too because hoping for the worst was making her morale drop more and more. It was taking almost 45 minutes to an hour for each person to come out, and she had to wait just an hour more to unlock her luck and save her friend's life.

Busy calming herself, she got a call from Ahmed, Amna's fiancé.

A frown formed on her forehead as she quickly picked up the call.

"Hello, Ahmed bhai? What happened?"

"Come fast, Shehar. Amna... Amna, she is... her heart is not working. We are at the hospital. Come."