Chapter 2 Smooth. Fuko definitely knows how to make a good first impression on the interview panel
Smooth. Fuko definitely knows how to make a good first impression on the interview panel
Adzo Opoku introduces herself as assistant director of SIMPO, which I already knew, because I obviously stalked her too.
Adzo had her own Ghanaian kente-cloth clothing brand that sold to some department stores in the States (a big seven-figure deal) before becoming the AD here.
Her clothes are the only source of colour in this grey room.
She also smells incredible, but that is not an appropriate thing to say to someone when they are interviewing you.
The third man, Toby Lewis, wearing glasses and a brown suit, is now a marketing officer and was not meant to be on the interviewing panel initially, but three years ago, after his graduation, he was ‘where I am now’.
Which I do not think is the correct phrase for what is happening.
Toby Lewis saw me naked less than a week ago, but Toby Lewis doesn’t seem to remember seeing me naked less than a week ago.
If it wasn’t for that fact, I would let myself be a bit annoyed about someone only a year older than me being my supervisor.
There is a slight smile on his face as he studies the answers to the task I had to complete earlier.
I cannot casually bring the onsen up; that would be even weirder than me saying that Adzo smells as if she has run through a field of daisies and swum in a rose-water river.
So instead, I sit in the chair provided with a stiff smile and teeth clenched too hard, reminding myself to follow the STAR structure to answer the questions and stop acting weird when Toby lifts his head to look at me.
‘Why marketing with SIMPO?’ asks Steven.
Right, shuuchuu, Fuko. You got this.
‘I graduated from university with a degree in media studies. We did a module on TV serials advertising.’ S—Situation.
Tick. ‘And part of that assessment was to create a campaign for one show that was on TV at the time. The way our lecturers measured that was by the traffic to the website.’ T—Task.
Tick. ‘I was chosen to be the leader of the group. At the time, SIMPO had just released its Transparency and Strategy report on the most successful digital marketing campaigns in the country, which I used as a framework for ours. Things like search engine optimisation—it was a medical drama, so we have included things like conditions mentioned in episode three and famous people with disorders that doctor so-and-so has on our website. After three weeks, the traffic was lower than we predicted, but I included a test to see what disease from the show you would be. That change caused our website to crash but gave us an 87 percent pass grade.’ A—Action and R—Result. Tick. Tick. I am so fucking sweaty.
‘Miss Brewer.’ Toby rubs his light eyebrow, breaking away from my task results. ‘Sorry, colleagues, I am interjecting.’
‘No, go ahead, Toby.’ Adzo smiles, taking a break from taking notes. ‘We don’t have to go in order.’
My chest twinges from fear, my neck turning to him in a jolting motion like a wind-up toy.
‘I know we will talk about the task later, but I am just bringing it up because you mentioned our report. One of the biggest suggestions was uploading posts at a specific time, but nowhere in your written task have you mentioned that.’ He clasps his hands together, staring at me through his glasses.
What a dick. I know I am the fifth interview of the day, but come on, interrupting the flow to catch me out feels cruel and unusual. Maybe he remembers me and is trying to tank my chances. He will not have the satisfaction. I know what I am doing.
My mouth opens to vaporise the little smirk off his face when I feel something drop on mine.
‘Oh, God,’ Steven whispers.
‘Right, ugh.’ Adzo jumps up.
It moves. Something landed on my face and is now crawling. I try hard not to scream, but the blood drains from my face, faintness nears, and my vision tunnels when I realise it’s a spider. Toby Lewis picks up a piece of paper, pushes the creature onto it, and throws it out of the window.
‘Sorry, back to my question.’ He sits back down and looks at me.
I lift my hand in a question. ‘I am so sorry. Can I just step outside for a second?’
‘Is everything okay?’ Toby asks.
‘Yeah, I am just terrible with bugs. I think I am going to faint.’
And I do. My eyes roll back as I slide off my chair.
My lids open after what felt like a small eternity but was about ten seconds. Adzo is on the floor with me; she smells like a god that stepped off Mount Olympus. I must have sniffed her too loudly, because she asks, ‘Do you like the new scent? It’s our client’s product.’
Like I haven’t embarrassed myself enough. The blood that recently escaped my cheeks is back in a flood.
‘I think I died, and it brought me back.’ I dig my grave of embarrassment further. Why stop at 6-feet deep when 10 is a better number?
Luckily, she laughs. ‘Can I get that in writing to put on promotional materials?’
I nod as the men help me up from the floor. A cup of sweet tea and a protein bar appear in front of me. I check the ingredients—peanut butter and salted caramel—yum. Steven and Adzo refuse to continue until I’ve eaten it and finished my tea.
‘You know what that reminded me of?’ I try to stop myself from talking, but it just pours out between bites.
‘When I was 7, I lived in Japan, and a bee flew into our classroom. I got so scared, put my shoes on, and ran all the way home. When my mum opened the door, frazzled from the phone call from the school, the first thing she said was, Fuko, I can’t believe you stole another girl’s shoes.
I am just really bad with bugs. I think parts of my brain switch off. Here—it literally did.’
There is a polite chuckle but also an awkward exchange of looks between people who could have employed me, but now never will. That’s why I usually don’t talk to people about... anything beyond the weather. The best thing now is to not say anything and just go back to the interview.
‘And insects in rural Japan are worse than here. They are bigger and unafraid. Moths the size of a fist. Worms the length of snakes. Even the butterflies are scary big. You never know if it’s a small bird or a flying creature from hell.’
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
‘That is true, actually. A praying mantis climbed up my leg. It was the size of a small rodent. I’ve been to Japan recently, just came back.’ Toby Lewis tries to lighten the mood with a small brag.
‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ Adzo lilts.
‘Oh, how nice,’ Steven says.
‘Oh, yeah, you did!’ I say without thinking, bringing the conversation to an actual, inarguable halt.
Now this is a pickle. Three pairs of eyes turn to me like sharks when they smell blood.
There needs to be something that would be less HR-worthy than ‘I have seen your junk’.
I can’t say I have checked his social media like I did with the other two, because I only know about them through them signing their names in the interview invitation e-mail, which he didn’t do. Think, Fuko, think.
I scramble for ideas as their bodies careen towards me, waiting for an explanation. Stalker is written all over Toby Lewis’s face. He thinks I’ve stalked him. I sigh, saying the only thing I can in the post-faint state.
‘We stayed at the same inn. I got stuck on the mountain, and you kindly paid for my room to make me feel better.’ Honesty is the best policy, especially when you know the subtle art of the Kyoto-esque approach—direct towards the conclusion without revealing your hand.
A perfect balance of honne and tatemae, inward feelings and outward face.
‘Oh Toby, that’s lovely.’ Adzo compliments his gesture.
‘Oh, that probably wasn’t too bad with how weak the yen is at the moment,’ Steven mumbles to himself.
‘Oh, God.’ Toby, unlike me, clearly has never heard of being subtle.
His face flushed with the brightest red stain, enough to make me think it will never leave. His head drops on the table and is covered with his arms like the most terrified tortoise you can imagine.
‘What, what happened?’ Steven asks, surprised by his reaction.
‘Toby, are you all right?’ Adzo looks at me and then at him and then back at me.
‘It’s fine. It’s honestly nothing.’ He also realises that he can’t just say ‘I have seen this candidate without her clothes on’.
I need to get the attention back on me before they ask more questions. ‘My fainting!’ I interject. ‘I am so sorry about it.’ I laugh.
My distraction works, because Steven says, ‘Oh please, don’t apologise. Let us know if you need more time or for us to rearrange the interview, Fukoh.’
‘What was your question before I hit the floor?’ I point at Toby with both hands. That’s good, Fuko, bring it back to the point of this gathering.
‘Yes, right! Um.’ Toby checks his notes, face making his paper look pink. ‘Why didn’t you talk about upload times?’
‘In the task, right?’ I ask, and he nods without looking me in the eye.
‘Well, as of last week, it doesn’t matter what time you upload.
The social media algorithm will drive traffic from all over the world if the content is high quality.
It also decides the optimum time to push the content to people.
If it weren’t for the recent change, I would have included that in the write-up. ’
‘Are you satisfied with the answer, Toby? Is everyone fine to continue with our normal programme?’ Adzo asks, looking concerned, but ultimately moving on from our exchange.
Still bright in the cheeks, he flashes a warm smile at me and then gestures to Adzo to take the floor.
There are three more questions. I answer them to the best of my ability, but I can’t stop thinking about my answers.
I’m concerned I didn’t actually talk about what I could do for SIMPO or their favourite campaigns of mine, as the only thing on my mind was how bloody embarrassing it was to faint at a spider.
With how early I arrived, I should’ve gone through a park before the interview, maybe I would’ve stepped in dog poo and exhausted my bad luck for today.
‘Let me walk you out,’ Toby Lewis says, correcting his tie and holding the door open.
‘It was lovely to meet you, Fukoh.’ Adzo smiles.
‘Thank you.’ I walk out the door and bow to the panel, still in my head about everything that just happened. ‘Sorry, still in Japan mode.’
Steven puts his hands together in a praying motion and bows to me with the enthusiasm of a man who wants to prove that he is cultured. I won’t be a dick about his form (it was more of a namaste than an arigatougozaimasu), but A for effort.
We walk off far enough for the small window in the door not to allow Steven and Adzo to see us. Toby stops and covers his forehead, as if without his hand, his entire head would roll behind the dying bird of paradise plant in the corridor’s corner.
‘I am so sorry. I wouldn’t have been interviewing if I’d recognised you. I was without glasses back then.’
‘There was a lot less skin this time,’ I blurt out.
Toby Lewis chuckles at my comment, which is nice. ‘Same inn in rural Japan. What are the odds of that?’
Bloody high if you’re me.
Huh, he has a nice smile.
I force one of my own, but the complete failure of my interview is now creeping in from all sides. All of my chances are gone because I couldn’t keep it together and then couldn’t shut up in time. What’s even the point of having a magical amulet if it did fuck all?
‘You can report this incident to HR. Honestly, I will deal with it,’ Toby says, as if trying to lighten the mood
He must have misread my gloominess as an offence to his social faux pas.
‘Well, maybe I will ask them to redo the interview. Fainting was not my proudest moment.’
‘Oh, there will be no need to redo anything.’ He taps his card on the lift to hail it to the third floor. ‘I think you are the only appointable candidate, and you were the last interview.’
My heart drops to my soles. Did he just say what I think he said?
‘Steven or Adzo should call you later today.’ A dimple appears on his left cheek.
I gape at him, processing what he just said. ‘Are you telling me this because of the onsen situation?’
‘Absolutely.’ The elevator arrives; Toby Lewis walks in with me. ‘I’m kidding. You are the only person who did the task correctly and who had a good rationale for it. I thought I’d just speed up the process. Sorry if I came across as a wanker.’
Oh, he definitely did. Who interrupts an interview to be rude and demeaning?
‘You didn’t,’ I lie.
‘That’s good. It was just such a long day, and you were showing potential. I just wanted to make sure you were the right one.’
The lift lights up with a green G, and the doors open. We don’t move. A rush of warm prickles dances on my skin.
Acknowledgement. That must be what this feeling is.
‘If I get home and get a rejection e-mail—I will hunt you down for your fake promises.’
‘Yeah? I would be careful with your threats. It’s very easy to outrun a fainter. I fish, so I know where to find worms.’
Embarrassment is nothing new to me. I’ve learnt to live with it, like people live with mysterious rashes that come and go as they please.
I cover my mouth to hide my laughter. ‘This interview will haunt me forever, won’t it?’
‘If you have ammo on me, it’s only fair I have something on you.’ He tilts his head playfully. ‘See you next week, Fuko.’
Huh, he pronounced my name right.
We wave goodbye. I go home with a bit more pep in my step and breathe a sigh of relief when a phone call comes through to offer me a fixed-term digital marketing intern position with the possibility of a permanent role if my performance is satisfactory.