Studying at medical college was very difficult for me; all I did in my spare time was sleep, because I had no strength for anything else.
“You need to come to your senses a little and rest,” my school friend Virginia told me on the phone. – Tomorrow the summer holidays at your college begin, use them to relax. For example, I will go to the sea to relax.
“I’d better go to work,” I said, “otherwise I won’t have the money to pay for the next semester.” And then, after work, I will study to consolidate the knowledge.
“You’ll spend your whole life reading books, you nerd,” she answered me sharply, then hung up, and then sent a personal message with a link to a hotel for the poor and its photograph.
“What is this?” – I wrote to her.
She called me back right away.
– This is the place where you can relax within your means. You’ll just go crazy if you don’t stop studying. You know that the smartest people have an unenviable fate,” she told me defiantly. “They always serve, and only those who have C grades win in this life.”
– Yes, yes, I know, they are bolder, more insolent, more resourceful and believe that the whole world is at their feet. And they are also incompetent and ignorant. I wouldn’t want to deal with people like that. A C-grade doctor is an executioner, and so it is in all other specialties.
“Well, as you know,” she chuckled into the phone, “the choice is yours.”
I was simply exhausted from talking to her. It was already difficult for me, I was the oldest in the course, I was already twenty-six years old, I had no personal life and no time for it. All my life I did nothing but plow. I started working in school, in high school, handing out leaflets, then worked in a French coffee shop as a waitress to save up money for college. It was my dream to become a medical professional, and now I was almost there. I only had two years left to study. And my friend tells me – rest. Where will I rest? In a hotel for the poor? I won’t go there even at gunpoint! Out of helplessness, I burst into tears; there was no one to support me, because my parents already had their hands full with my little sisters, one of whom had just turned three.
There was a catastrophic lack of money. Therefore, since the beginning of the summer holidays from college, I began to look for a job. I was ready to take on any job, but a conversation with my school friend had such an impact on me that I wanted to find something more decent. Not far from the hostel where I lived, there was a fashion house where I wanted to get a job. Of course, I understood that I was unlikely to be accepted as a top model, but I was quite suitable to demonstrate clothes for housewives or mothers with children. One girl I went to college with got a job there as a model. She said that they paid well there and gave exact figures. I wanted to get a job there.
Of course, for the interview I put on my best clothes at once, or rather, everything I had. It was both the worst and the best at once, because there was no other. When I arrived, I was so worried that my hands were even shaking. I was already roughly figuring out how much this salary would be enough for me if I was hired. After doing the math, I came to the conclusion that I could pay for college in full in just one summer, which made me so excited that I began to worry even more.
On this day, I was not the only one who came for an interview; there were several candidates for this vacancy. I tried not to look at them, so as not to overwhelm myself and get upset in advance. We went in for the interview one by one. When it was my turn, as soon as I entered the office and saw a magnificent lady in a purple jumpsuit and with a high hairstyle, I burst into tears. To be honest, I have never been lucky: what was easy for others, I had to earn with sweat and blood. For some reason it seemed to me that I had already been refused, although they had not even greeted me yet. On the badge that hung on her chest, I had difficulty reading her name because of the tears in my eyes: Greta Abran. Now my future depended on her, on this Greta Abran.
– What’s happened? – Greta Abran asked motherly.
“I really need this job,” I said, smearing cheap cosmetics over my face.
The woman made a knowing face and then said:
– Girl, dear, you are not suitable for us.
Her polite voice combined with her refusal cut me to the heart. It would be better if she answered me rudely or kicked me out. And so, I was confused and didn’t know how to react.There was a photograph on her desk, showing a beautiful girl in a straw hat, and for some reason I started looking at it.
– Look here, – the woman added, pointing with a ballpoint pen at the ad that was lying on her desk. – We need a model who is strictly one hundred and seventy-five centimeters tall, and how tall are you?
