Terrynce enters the workforce to support her family
|Terrynce checked her refection in the mirror: no lipstick on her teeth, hair neatly styled. She stepped out of the car, purse on her shoulder, leather folio containing her resume printed on the finest bond paper. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the mirrored window building, then proceeded to walk through the revolving door. The lobby was bustling with people moving about and a swamped receptionist forwarding calls and giving directions to harried visitors. Thankfully, Terrynce already knew where she needed to be. As she boarded the elevator, a man rushed in behind her.
"Which floor?" she asked.
"Fourth," he replied. She also was headed for the fourth floor and pressed the button. The man noticed her designer suit, blouse of silk and a strand of pearls around her neck; she seemed to have an affluent background. Judging by the condition of her skin, he guessed her to be in her early forties, a tad too old for the position.
"Are you, by any chance, interviewing for the staff accountant position?" he asked.
"I'm Terrance Hobson, the Accounting Manager."
Terrynce was surprised. She'd been on what seemed countless interviews, the rejections mocking her in her head. This was the only position she seemed qualified for. Hiring managers seem so much younger these days, but, this young black guy was telling her he heads the department? Terrynce grew up in a world where the household help at her beck and call was black, as were the "yard boys" who maintained her parents' expansive acreage. Money was never a worry in the past, but after weathering a blistering divorce and currently raising two teenaged children, she needed work. The times have changed; she knew she needed to change with them.
"My name is also Terrynce, Terrynce Worthington," she answered with a smile and offered her hand to shake.