The fiction story

Every Monday: The diary of the Espresso Woman. Part 7.

Here I go again. The professional me is going to the next job interview. I feel like I am an actor going from audition to audition trying to get the leading role in the next big movie.

I wonder how long does it take to get to the point where you are willing to accept the part of the best supporting actor. And if that doesn’t happen… When will one be ready to take on a role in an episode? When will one (well… I) be desperate enough to be part of a mass scene? A toothpaste commercial, working as a mascot in front of the shopping mall…?

And what would be the rock bottom for an actor?

I cannot honestly say that I miss having a job. I do not. I miss having money. It’s amazing how fast your savings disappear once there’s no incoming cash-flow. I dare not think what becomes of me in a couple of months.

Fortunately I got the London trip covered. My boyfriend was a real gentleman about it. He just confirmed the dates with me and then sent the plane tickets. It could have made me feel bad but somehow it doesn’t – it makes me feel like I’ve been taken care of. Which I of course do not need as I am perfectly capable of handling my own life. And that’s what I am doing right now. I am going to get myself one of those job things.


This time it’s the kind of contemporary office where young people swoosh around on skateboards and roller skates. The place is filled with quirky details, the coffee corner has got bean bags and the manager greets me in jeans, sneakers and his favourite (I assume) worn out Metallica T-shirt. There’s an Apple watch on his wrist and his hair is longer than mine. He is shorter than me and as I’m wearing high heels I must look like a giraffe to him.

I feel totally out of place in my black banker’s suit. I should have worn my ripped jeans and black biker jacket for this one.

He sits me down in a meeting room that is full of distracting details.

“So, why did you leave your last job?”

I wish I could be Bridget Jones and say that I got sacked for shagging the boss…

“It was time for new challenges.” I try to sound as confident as possible.

“And at the moment you are…”

He can see from my CV that I am unemployed but he makes me say it. Bastard.

“Between jobs.”

“I see.”

Well, now you do, of course.

He goes on asking me all the regular questions and he is not looking at me but the mac book in his lap. It’s actually driving me nuts. He’s typing all the time and I have no idea if he is writing down my answers or chatting with a friend or doing god knows what. Very disrespectful. He doesn’t seem to be bothered about anything. Is he even listening to me?

He might be a couple of years younger than me but I feel totally old here. I feel that I will not get a part in this movie.


I am actually glad to get out of there. Suddenly I wish I could just kick off my high heels and walk home barefoot.

What the hell am I doing? Why did I quit my job? For the boyfriend who is living in London now. And I am here. It’s all his fault.

I am sulking the whole way home. This is not how it was supposed to be. At all.


I am sitting by my window watching a tiny bird eat the seeds I have put out with a feeder on my balcony. The poor creature is looking to its left and right after every bite. Always on the watch so that nobody can eat him. I get nervous just looking at him. A bite, then a look to his left and right. After every bite he turns his head. I feel sorry for the bird.

At least I am here in my home. Nobody can eat me up. Am I feeling sorry for myself now?

Suddenly I spot my downstairs neighbour on his balcony. He is smoking and holding a huge coffee mug in his left hand. He looks up and raises the coffee cup to greet me. I’m surprised as we have never spoken a word except a hello in the hallway. He has never seemed friendly but now he is smiling at me. I am so grateful to him. It makes me feel so much better.

And I notice now that he’s actually quite cute. I wave back and I see that he is saying something! I start opening the window but then my phone rings.

I go back to the window after the phone call but the neighbour is not there any more. I wonder what happened if I just went downstairs and rang his doorbell. It would be so nice to just have company right now… But that would be weird. He could take it the wrong way. And maybe he’s not alone at all!

Yeah, whatever. It’s time to hit the gym anyway. Get over that self pity and be a man. A woman, I wanted to say. A woman.

But that neighbour downstairs was cute. Wasn’t he? And what did he want to tell me, I wonder….

To be continued next Monday.



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