ct attorney. All the other applicants would have the advantage then, I concluded.
I looked at my watch and made the decision, “Mom, drop me off on Jacob Street. I’m going to the interview.” “Honey, I don’t think you should. You look...strange,” she said, ever so gently. I knew she was right. He probably would take one look at me and judge me by my appearance rather than by my experience and talent. I probably shouldn’t go. But if I didn’t, I’d always wonder if I could have gotten my dream job. “No, Mom, take me there.”
Reluctantly, she took me where I wanted to go. I walked right into the formidable office with the mahogany furniture and pillars of white marble, not letting my own self-consciousness or any disease stop me. Not now, not when I had worked so hard for so long to be given this opportunity.
I went to the woman sitting behind the front desk and said, as well as I could, “Nicole Jenkins! To see Mr. Robertson.” She stared at my face. “He’s expecting you. Go right in.” I entered the room to her right and saw a gray-haired man sitting behind the large desk reading a file.
Suddenly my nerves got the best of me, and I had to sit. Took the chair in front of him. “Hello,” he said. “Miss Jenkins? .... Yes. Please excuse me. I’m having a Bell’s palsy attack. My doctor explained to me that it would last a few days. I came right from the hospital.” “You’re very dedicated to come when you’re not feeling up to speed,” he responded, after a pause. “Yes, Sir.”