I am late, and what a shock I know. But this time, it is actually important. Today is September 11th, 2001. Today is the big day: the big interview which quite literally decides my whole future (not to be dramatic or put more pressure on myself). This interview is probably the biggest thing ever. This accounting position at the World Trade Center is the best job in the whole of New York. It has great pay, great people, great health benefits, and so much more. I have been dreaming of this since I came here almost twenty years ago with my mom for a work party. This is one of the few dreams that I hope can turn into a reality.

    My whole life, I do not think I have ever been on time to something, besides my birth. Not that that is something to brag about. I am not late exactly, just not on track to arrive there at a standard ten minutes before the interview starts. I walk speedily into the kitchen with my brand new Michael Kors two-piece pantsuit. The best suits for women, embellished with gold metal details and top-notch stitching. As I was searching for the perfect suit, this one popped out of the clothing rack and danced around me, waving its magic wand to get me into a trance to fall in love with it. I pour myself a cup of leftover coffee that my husband left into a flask, grab a Chewy granola bar with chocolate chips, and run into the entryway to put on my shoes. 

I reach for my work shoes: three-inch black heels that my mother got me for my birthday a couple of months ago. I put them on and stumble out of the door, trying not to fall. Why are heels so uncomfortable?

    I walk to the car: a white Toyota, trying to balance myself in the heels while carrying my purse and flask. At least I have the car, my husband offered to take the subway so that I can arrive appropriately. Bless him, he has helped me a lot these past couple of days to prepare for this interview. 

 I open the car door and place my things on the passenger side. I shut the door and take a deep breath in.

    “I can do this,” I whisper back to myself.

    I blow out a breath, and I start to turn on the car, I am really doing this today. It is happening, I say to myself.

    It is not turning on. The car is not turning on. The brand new hundred thousand dollar car is not turning on. You are actually kidding me. I slam my face on the steering wheel, but not hard enough to honk the car horn. I let out a deep breath and inhale panic and anxiety. 

    “UGH! What am I supposed to do now?”

Yes, you have to sprint, my mind tells me.

    I get out of the car and start walking. I look down at my watch: 8:15. The interview is at 8:25. My once tense shoulders relax at ease. Okay, fifteen minutes to walk,  you can do it. It cannot be that far. I hope so. This interview quite literally decides my future and walking in the hot sun does not really work well in this mix but you know, if I have to then I will. I know how to get there already and I have memorized quick routes (Yes I have practiced driving there). I start walking, and then jogging as I realize that I am walking very slowly. As I am “jogging” (speed walking, mixed with skipping whilst carrying my purse and a coffee flask), I realize that the flask lid was not fully shut and notice a big splotch of brown on my new navy wool blazer. Oh my god, I might as well be dead. I stop abruptly and look around the street.  Bathroom, I need to get this off right now.

 I notice that there is a coffee shop in front of me. I quickly saunter in with a fake smile and politely ask if I can use the bathroom without buying something. The coffee shop has a very calming aesthetic to it, with soft music, and hanging vines everywhere.

“Sure, go right ahead sweetie, “ the kind woman says.

“Thank you!” I shout as I look around for the bathroom.

    I walk in and immediately run towards the sink and turn on the water and wet my jacket to try to get the stain out. Thank god I did not purchase the white one. After five or six vigorous scrubbing sessions, the coffee stain seems to have vanished.

Phew it came off!

I turn off the tap, open the door and run out.

“Thank you, have a good day, “ I say slightly out of breath

“No problem hon,” she says with a smile.

    The bright hot sun is casting its rays that push away the puffy clouds. I can see the World Trade Center from my position.  I continue walking but I notice that there are not many people on the street, which is why I probably have not heard the phrase “Hey I am walking over here!” being repeated with anger so much. As I get closer, I notice the building and its beautiful architecture. So many years ago I went into creating this amazing piece that is such a staple in New York. I cannot wait to walk inside.

    Iris Garcia?”  the front desk lady asks in a high-pitched voice.

    I was not expecting that. Maybe they were all prepared and waiting for me. Maybe they know me.

    “Hello, yes, um, that is me,” I say with a smile.

    The lady frowns and says, “You are late ma’am.”

I freeze.

“Um, excuse me?”

“You. Are. Late. Very Late.”

I glance over at the clock. 8:43. But that’s impossible, my alarm would have gone off on the watch at 8;30. I look down at the watch. A sea of redness fills my cheeks. 8:15 my watch reads. Oh my god, I must have broken it or something. This is just perfect. Why must all of this happen to me? Today was supposed to be a perfect day. Although I am late a lot, I was not supposed to be late today. But as soon as I knew the car stopped, something within me said that today is not my day. It has digressed a lot from my hypothetical dream of everything working out perfectly. Can this day possibly get any worse?

I cannot believe this woman right now. I get it, but it is not my fault. It is my watch, otherwise, I would have been here on time.

“Ma’am. Please, I am begging you. Is there anything I can do? Can we reschedule? Or, I could just leave my resume here,” I insinuate slyly.

Her devil expression does not change. She props one foot out and puts her hands on her hips.

“Ma’am I do not know why you continue to banter with me. I am going to say this one last time. You heard what I said before. We will not take you. We do not believe in tardiness. You are excused and we will not be taking your application. Good day, “ she said, turning away from her as she returns to her seat. Snobby little human.

“Okay fine. Can I ask you a question?” I ask with hope.

“Yes?” she said with a tone.

“Could you recommend some places to eat around here? I usually do not roam around this street and I suppose you have been here a while and may know some good spots,” I say.

“Is this really necessary?” she asks.

“Well, I mean you deny me the job opportunity you might as well make up for it right?” I say with a smile.

Her resting face remains that way.

“Fine. But it is plausible that you may not like them.                                      I am vegetarian,” she says with pride glowing on her face.

Oh my goodness what a shock. I bet she is probably really close with the community. I bet she gleans apples in her spare time. Ugh, she vexes me.

I squeal. She grabs a piece of paper and begins writing down some names. Suddenly a loud noise fills my ear. The ground starts to shake a little bit. The lady looks at me and then down at the paper. Whatever it is must be close. An earthquake? What could it be? It gets louder and it feels like a roar. I hear voices and screams. Anger, fear, shock. Then it hits me as I look around and out the window and up in the sky: a plane. But why is the ground shaking? As I look, the message is written across the sky.