It's My Mistake ~ PUBLISHED

Chapter 3

"So, Miss Mark, why do you want to work for us?" said a rather plump looking woman with a heart-shaped face as she tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear.

"Well, I have always wanted to work with people, ever since I was a small child," I lied as I tried to ignore how annoyingly perfect her hair looked. It shined and shimmered beautifully in the bright lights. I could never get my hair to shine like that. "My own mother was a child minder, and I would be endlessly fascinated with all the different stories about the children that came through her care who clearly needed extra help. We would talk for hours about how we would help them if we could."

It wasn't entirely a lie. I did have a mother who was a child minder, she did have children come through her care that needed extra care, and we did talk for at least a few minutes about how we would help them if we could, when she tucked me in at night—the days she was around to tuck me in at night anyway. But I didn't always want to work with people. In fact, after the last terrible few years working in care, I had decided I no longer wanted to work with people. I had enough of their problems, it was depressing. Not to mention it reminded me terribly of my mother. I thought working with children or vulnerable young adults would make me feel closer to my mother. Well, it did, but it had the opposite effect; it made me miss her. She died when I was fourteen.

My dream job was actually working in hospitality. Well, it's a little more complex than that. It stemmed from being fascinated with hotels and holidaying as a child. My mum wasn't exactly rich, but she would save up at least a little bit to afford a small holiday somewhere like Spain or Portugal every other year. Mum worked a lot to provide for her family, so I hardly saw her. Dad died when I was very young, I don't even remember him. So when we had our little holidays, it was the only time of the year that I could have her to myself for hours at a time. Playing on the beach making sandcastles, or sitting listening to her read to me in the evenings. Holidays were the only thing that really made me feel happy. I wanted to find a way to keep that happiness with me. Until I became obsessed with hotels and was adamant I wanted to work in one or even own one, so I could be the reason for other people's happy holiday memories.

"I see, but why our company?" the plump woman asked, knocking me out of my daydreams that seemed to come a little too easily. I was sat being interviewed in a café that reminded me of a trip to Italy we had one year.

"Ah, that's easy," I began. I noticed she didn't even make any notes on my previous answer, and I felt my cheeks flush a little. I wondered if I actually answered her question wrong. "Out of all the companies out there, none looked as professional as yours, with such a high rating too!" I smiled a little falsely.

The woman smiled back, and began to finally jot down some notes in her bright pink notepad that gave me a headache every time I glanced at the florescent cover. Clearly what I said worked, I must have said something she liked to hear. But it was true; they were professional and had very good ratings.

"Plus, I like the idea of your setting," I stupidly continued, trying to find a way to fill the uncomfortable silence between us. "With all those gardens for the children to play in, rather than being right in the city centre like this other one I was looking at." I laughed a little inwardly. "In fact, this other one, I wasn't too keen on because the website looked absolutely terrible!"

"Uh huh," the woman said, looking up from her notes suddenly and back at me. Her smile had faded and she was hard to read. "Does it have a picture of a woman in a red dress on the front?"

"Yeah! That's the one, you know of it too? Absolutely awful isn't it?" I laughed again.

"But of course..." she said, her face set hard as she stared at me, "the photographer didn't quite get my good side in that picture."

"Huh?" I asked, unsure I heard her correctly.

"Miss Mark..." she started, as she folded her arms across her large chest, "you've just described our company website. I think you have gotten confused with what company you're being interviewed for."

My face fell.

Shit.

"Well, it was, err, interesting meeting you, Miss Mark," she continued, before I had chance to think of something to say. "We'll get in touch if you have been successful." She put her pen down rather definitively on the café table in front of her and closed her notepad so more of that horrendous bright cover was staring at me.

My heart sank. That was yet another interview I had messed up, and I couldn't even say it was the first one after the hotel incident.

"I'm so sorry!" I muttered and sighed. "The truth is, I'm really not doing very well at the moment, work-wise I mean. I think I'm just trying too hard. I didn't mean to offend you. In fact, I didn't even mean all those things I said. I was just trying to hype up the job. But I clearly got my wires crossed."

"Absolutely." She nodded, and stared at me.

"I'll be honest, I've applied for every job there is that's going. From working with children, working with vulnerable adults, even cleaning and bar work. I tried to find work in a different area, went for this interview at a hotel. It was only an entry level role, less pay than care work, and I messed it up. But I then realised that it wasn't for me. I can't work in one of those big-shot hotels trying to be polite to rich people, when I can make a different here working with the people that really need it"—I didn't really want to work with special needs children or drug addict teenagers anymore, especially not after what happened in my last job. But I had realised I was out of my league trying to get a job in a hotel without any experience. I had to find another way to get into hotel work, but to do that, I needed money, which meant I needed a job. Not to mention I needed money to pay my rent. "I've applied for so many that I keep getting my information wrong."

The woman, to my surprise, suddenly smiled at me. "I appreciate your honesty, Miss Mark, thank you."

I nodded and went to get up, but she wasn't finished; "I'll make sure I leave out the bit where you mock the website and the company." She paused and smiled at me. "Although it isn't my decision to make whether to hire you or not, but with your impressive CV, we'd be stupid not to take you."

My eyebrows went up. "What? Really?"

She nodded. "I've been in a similar position to you. I know how hard it is."

"Thank you!" I said, smiling broadly at her.

"You're welcome, and good luck."

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