The Weight of Grahams

I wasn't supposed to be here- hell, even the job offer said so, but I was down for anything. Sterling Capital Group was a company that commanded respect from everyone in New York City. It was not just any company, it was a powerhouse, one that could make or destroy careers. I could not sleep on such an offer. I had waited for this day all summer and I couldn't believe I finally got a call back from a company of such caliber. I realized that the little proceedings from my family business could no longer cut it for me.

I arrived at the company at 7:30. The interview was scheduled for 8:00, so I was right on time. The company building screamed luxury. It was the definition of first class, its roof touching the skies. From just looking, you could tell it had more than 25 floors. Honestly speaking, it was the biggest building I had ever seen.

I showed up in my best clothes- or so I thought. My cheap heels, my scruffy button-up top, and my thrifted pants stood nothing close to the outfits I saw there. These people were looking for jobs just like me, but one could tell that they were polished corporate elites. That was enough to make me lose my confidence and go home, but I had so much on the line.

There was a long line filled with my fellow applicants waiting for their turns. I was starting to wish I had at least taken breakfast before stepping out of my house. The sterile office space, paired with the freezing air conditioning, only made my exhaustion worse. The plain and boring aesthetic that came with the work environment and the cold atmosphere made me so tired and hungry.

I'm pretty sure I yawned so many times to the point where I disgusted the people around me. My top had sleeves but it didn't make any effort to keep me from the cold. So much for a corporate top. I kept rubbing my palms against each other to create some form of friction. The line was moving at such a slow pace and I was getting even more tired. Maybe if I got some shut-eye till it was my turn, I'd be a bit more active. As soon as I tried to close my eyes I was jolted by someone calling my name up front.

"N. Sinclair!" the voice called out. I was confused as to why I was getting called out amid all the other applicants in front of me, but I answered as quickly as I could, moving to the room where the interview was taking place, not minding the heads that turned as I walked by. As I walked towards the room, I noticed the interviewer's brows furrowed. He looked confused but he still let me in.

The office was a sleek, intimidating space, even more tense than the waiting room. A stern-looking interviewer, Mr. Harrington, sat behind a glass desk, flipping through a file as I stepped in.

"Take a seat, Ms. Sinclair

"Thank you, sir," I replied

Mr. Harrington, now frantically flipping through the files, asked, "You're... Nora Sinclair?"

" Yes, sir."

"You're not what I expected." He said rather condescendingly.

My heart began to pound. "Excuse me, sir, what do you mean?"

"Your background. Your résumé. This-doesn't quite align with what we were looking for."

"Well, I may not have the traditional background, but I can assure you I'm hardworking, quick to learn, and-"

"You weren't even on the final shortlist. This job was open for Natalie Sinclair, not you, Nora. "

I began blinking in disbelief and my stomach dropped. "What?"

"There seems to have been a clerical error. You weren't supposed to be called in."

I was gripping my chair, holding on to it like I was holding on to this offer, I couldn't just let it go. "But... I got an email. A confirmation."

"Yes, a mistake on our part. I apologize for the inconvenience, but-"

"I believe I am qualified for this job. Please just let me try. Give me an ultimatum; I'll do anything. I know I can."

Mr. Harrington, now invested in my determination decided to take his chances. " Prove it," he said.

"There's an issue inside these files," he said, throwing a random file in front of me. "I want to you find out what it is and give me a solution"

My fingers tighten around the file as I scan the numbers. It's overwhelming-percentages, market trends, financial projections-all things I was never formally trained in. But I've always been good at reading between the lines, spotting patterns where others don't.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. If I panic, I'm done for. Instead, I look for the basics-what industry is this? What's the main risk factor? What's the potential gain?

" Okay... a tech startup. Recently secured a round of funding... projected growth looks solid, but..."

I finally figured it out.

"This investment looks promising at first glance. Strong projections, a growing market-but the lawsuit changes everything. If they lose, it could wipe out their profits for years. If I were an investor, I'd walk away or renegotiate for better terms before committing."

Silence.

Mr. Harrington's brow lifts slightly. He leans forward, glancing down at the file as if seeing it differently.

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"The numbers looked good-too good. I figured something had to be off. So I checked for red flags."

Mr. Harrington taps a finger against the desk, considering me. Then, after a long pause, he nods.