Chapter 6 Nonacceptance

Damien's POV

"Arghhh," I sigh as my alarm tears me from the hands of sleep. My head is banging. It's just 8 am, but I have to get up now because I have to interview some personnel for a vacancy at my airport.

I prefer picking employees myself than allowing others to conduct it. I snooze the alarm for thirty minutes more. I am exhausted. I came in late last night from the bar. I had taken the booze so much When it is 8:30 am, the alarm rings out again. I have no choice but to get up now. My legs land on my slippers as I stand up.

It's a bright, beautiful morning. I get my bathrobe and move to the bathroom to have my bath after arranging what I'd wear today. I settle for a dark blue suit and my recently acquired Louis Vuitton Manhattan Richelieu shoes. They cost quite a fortune.

I enter the bathroom to have my bath before going down for breakfast. When I'm done bathing, I apply my lotion and put on my clothes. I went straight to the dining section.

"Good morning, sir," Miss Leah, my housekeeper who comes in as early as 6 am, greets me.

"Good morning Leah. How is your husband?" I ask her in concern. He had an accident, and he's at the hospital.

"He's getting better, sir. Thank you," she says as she pours me a cup of orange juice.

"Thank you," I say as I get down to eat my meal of bacon, sausage, eggs, bread, and a cup of black coffee.

"Hmmm, just the way I like it. Thank you, Leah. This is delicious," I compliment her.

Her meals are pretty delicious. I quickly down my cup of coffee. It's almost time for the interview. I can't be late. I hope I get who I want because I'm in dire need of a PA.

When I go on trips, it's easier for me to have someone to help. "I'm off, Leah," I bid her goodbye while carrying my briefcase; my driver is already waiting for me.

He runs to get my bag from me as I come down. "Good morning, boss," he salutes me.

"Good morning," I reply to him and enter the car. It's almost 9:30 am. If I don't hurry, I'll be late for the interview.

"Could you please drive faster? I need to get to the airport fast," I instruct him while he increases his speed. By 9:55 am, I get to the airport. He comes to open my car for me.

The airport is quite busy. Well, it has to be. That's how I make my money. I take fast strides to the elevator specially designed for me. There's a red button inside.

My driver presses it, taking us to the last floor where my office is. The elevator dings, and I come out of it. We move towards my office on the left side.

Some offices are on the right side. Those offices are for my top workers. I bring out a card and use it to open my office.

Technology has made things relatively easier now. All I have to do is use the card. It's verified, and my office opens. No one can enter the office except they have a copy of the card and since I keep it well. No one can have a copy. My secretary comes rushing in. She must have seen me when I arrived. My driver drops my briefcase and goes out after a, "Enjoy your day, sir."

"Good morning, sir." Mrs. Penelope is an average height woman with pale golden hair, freckles, and a beautiful smile.

"Morning, Penelope. Where are the interviewees?" I ask her in a tone meant for business. I need to get down to business. Time waits for no man. Her face tells me something is wrong.

"We rescheduled them for noon, sir, when we couldn't get across to you yesterday, sir," she replies to me in a trembling voice.

"Why?" I'm confused here.

Then I suddenly remembered that I gave them a policy of 'No calls' except it is essential. Calls are a no-go area for me. I'm not too fond of calls. I prefer texts, and I even threatened to sack anyone who defied my orders.

They must have sent a couple of messages then. "Oh," I utter, recollecting why I could not reply to their messages.

I went in drunk yesterday and woke up late. "It's alright. 12 it is. Bring me the ledger I was working on yesterday," I say before dismissing her.

She looks relieved. She wipes off the beads of sweat that have made a room on her forehead. I smile. I do have that effect on people most times.

__________

After having interviewed three persons, "Can the fourth person come in now," I tell Mrs. Penelope on the phone.

When she enters, I'm surprised because she's not who I expected to have such an excellent portfolio. I look at her portfolio on my iPad, looking back at her.

"Are you Miss Jocelyn Gbone Dizon?" I inquire.

"Yes, sir. I'm the one," she replies to me with a smile.

'There's no way I'm going to employ a black person. Why did she have to have such a tempting résumé?' I think inwardly, forgetting to offer her a seat.

Or maybe I don't offer her a seat because I know I'm not going to waste my time with her. She clears her throat, interrupting my thoughts.

"Oh. You may sit. I'm sorry," I smirk.

How do I sort this out? I'm lost, but I'll sort it out anyways. In a few minutes, she gets up in anger and pads out of my office. Her stilettos made a quack sound after her. I smile, calling for the next interviewee. Her resume might be good, but I'll pass. I'll instead give it to the next person. Blacks aren't to be trusted. I've come to understand that.

The following person who walks in is a beautiful young lady. "Now, this is what I expected," I access her.

Her resume may not be up to Miss Jocelyn's, but it's pretty impressive, and she's beautiful. Maybe I'll give her the job but let me ask her a few questions.