The fiction story

NEW: Every Monday. The diary of the Espresso Woman. Part 4.

Going to job interviews is a job itself. I have to choose an outfit, do my makeup, go to the right place at the right time (can be trickier than you thought!) and of course I have to be on top of the game while being interviewed.

The outfit part is always a tough cookie. Do I fit into my clothes (You tell me how it’s possible to gain or lose 2 kg (4.4 pounds) in one day! I do not have the answer to this.), should I wear pants or a skirt, what colour should my outfit be? And if you tell me that all you have to do is dress professionally then I’ll tell you that you know nothing about this.

We’re all very visual creatures. An outfit makes an impression. Or doesn’t make an impression. There might be a hundred professional candidates but if you are the memorable one then it definitely counts.

Yeah, so no wonder that I arrive at the job interview quite exhausted.

The interviewer is a man. He’s alright and our conversation goes well. Until he starts to talk about the benefits the company has to offer.

“We have a lot of family activities. Children’s Christmas party for example…” He leaves the sentence hanging in the air and looks at me as if waiting for an answer.

The silence stretches out. So this is the part where I should tell him about my family and my children or not having children or when do I plan to have them or if I plan to have them at all.

They have no official right to ask this kind of thing but of course there will always be a way. And his way is just making my mind go blank.

“Do not say anything,” I tell myself. “It’s none of his business and you have to stand up for yourself. For the whole womankind! You’re an espresso kind of woman, god damn it!” I did not say that out loud, did I? I guess not.

Coffee,” I blurt out.


“Do you serve free coffee for employees?”

He has got a genuinely puzzled look on his face. I should have said something smarter than this… Luckily for me he sees the funny side of the situation. His face softens and he smiles.

“Yes, yes. We do serve coffee. I’m actually a real coffee lover myself and ours is pretty good. Would you like a cup maybe?” He seems really friendly now.

“Yes, please.” I take a deep relaxing breath, but I only do so in my mind.

“How would you like it? A latte?”

I smile. This is the part when I know exactly what I’m going to say. ” I’d love to have an espresso. No sugar.”

A wide smile spreads across his face. “Good choice! That’s how I like to drink it, too. Why spoil the good thing with milk, right?”

Yep, I figured so…

He makes a call to the secretary, then leans in a little bit across the desk, looks me in the eye and says: “I think we have a very strong candidate here.” He looks very pleased.

I respond to him with my prettiest most confident smile.

See, what did I tell you before? What are the things matter at a job interview?


I’m heading home. For a moment after the interview I feel like I have won something. Then I feel tired. I really feel like I made an effort today and now I’m entirely wiped out.

I’m thinking about going to a cafe to have a glass of wine but then I ditch the idea. I’ll just take a long walk home.

I want to clear my head but thoughts creep in. “Why hasn’t he called?” It’s been a week. Is he my boyfriend at all? We haven’t really talked about it and now that he works abroad it is  bugging me a little. Where do we stand, then?

Or maybe something bad has happened to him? Well, if you’re worried that a man in this situation might have been hit by a bus then usually you’d be wrong. Normally he would have been hit by something more serious. The charm of another woman for example.

No, let’s not go there. I am a strong confident woman. I do not get jealous or paranoid. Why would I? I’m the best of the best. Creme de la creme. Top of the top. Or whatever, you know.


I reach home. I want to unlock the door but it is already open. My god, someone has broken in! My heart is beating and I am already thinking about turning around and running when I see… him. He’s coming out of the kitchen wiping his hands in a white tea towel (the one that is supposed to be used for dishes only!).

“What are you doing here?!” I exclaim. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“I thought I’d come home for the weekend,” he says, surprised. And adds: “I missed you.”

I can’t believe it. He called my apartment home (or did he?). Doesn’t really matter ’cause the main thing is: He missed me!!

And there it is… I see candles on the table and a home cooked meal waiting for me. My bed is covered with rose petals and my favourite song is playing…

Well, I only see this in my head. The only thing that’s real is him standing there with the white linen towel in his hands, looking at me. Missing me.

I throw my arms around his neck and start crying.

“Hey, did I really scare you? I’m sorry. You gave me the key after I had sold my apartment. I thought you remembered.” He seems really puzzled.

“No, I didn’t remember,” I sob. But actually I do. And I wasn’t that scared. It’s just that… It’s not that easy being an espresso woman

To be continued next Monday…




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