One of my favorite memories from growing up is when it used to rain at Nana’s. Nana lived out in one of those old wooden houses on the island and we would spend the Summer there while my parents picked up extra hours. When it would rain though, it was like the whole town went dark, and then electric. That was my favorite because it seemed like, maybe, anything could happen.
The rain didn’t just dribble out either. It was always a downpour, and then a scramble, to get groceries inside, to run to the car, or to get the laundry off the line.
The sound was amazing. It was like the noise inside my heart and it just came out like rolling applause; a round of applause that we made it to shelter, just in time. In the backyard, the bamboo leaves use to cascade like waves in the rain, just like the way the brass fountain in Nana’s front parlor worked. The cup fills; the cup pours.
You know that bamboo? That was actually an invasive species that the neighbor, Mr. Abel, planted. People said it was terrible, but I loved the fence it formed around Nana’s brick patio. It was like our own carveout -- our claim to that island that generations of us had been living on. It was like that old Jackie O’ style Nana loved, effortlessly perfect.
So, when it rained, my Mom would make us watch these old black and white films, because she said it was the right kind of ambiance. My older sister, Georgiana, used to love the old samurai movies because she always wanted to compete and fight.
A couple of years ago though, she got into a bike accident. Someone hit her and left her for dead in Brooklyn. We had a social media campaign to catch the killer, but my mom couldn’t bring herself to go to the trial. I went though.
I came away thinking that I just wish I had been there, because then I probably would’ve been riding next to her, and then maybe that car would’ve given two of us more room because he would’ve seen us better. But, this is the past, and my exercise spiritual regime has really helped me through it.
You know, people’s lives get messed up in the blink of an eye, and sometimes you just can’t do anything about it. A shadow cuts us down, and our feet get set on a different path.
Um, it did hit my mom pretty hard though, and now she just kind of lives year-round at Nana’s. She says she’s there to keep an eye on things, but I think she just wants to retreat back to before she had kids.
My dad just works still, same as always, but he’s overseas a lot for business. He’s proud of me for being here today though.
I guess this is probably more than what you wanted to know when you asked me what made me interested in working here.
To sum it up, I’m interested in Dhole Capital because working here is like Nana’s house in the rain. I’m excited to see what happens next. Finance is my future.
I hope I haven’t been too wordy. I swear, I don’t love to hear myself talk, but if you don’t stop me, I will talk for hours.
No, no! I’m glad that you feel that this is such an open environment. If we have to spend a lot of time at work, it’s good that we communicate with each other, see how we fit together as a team. Let’s move on to the next topic though. Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten years? Does this job help you fulfill that role?
Well, in five years, I hope to be married. I moved to the city, well, you know, not only at Uncle Arthur’s invitation, but to grab my piece of the American pie. It’s my time to strike out on my own, find a nice girl, get married, have kids, carry on the traditions of my family.
Oh, that’s a very different answer than our usual team members, Mr. Armonde.
Oh, heh, no need to call me, Mr. Armonde. If you’re going to be my new assistant, you can just call me Philip. And I never want to be like any of the regular people here. It’s like Nana’s house, I always want to be the leader, envied, and repeated after.
Well, Philip, thank you. I was wondering if you had any questions for me now?
Miranda, right? Well, Miranda, I guess my only question is, where’s my office and when do I begin?
Your graduation is next month, sir, so we’ll have to wait until you’re officially done with college before the formal offer is extended, but Mr. Havisham has requested that we use this next month as a kind of informal training. Your office will be two doors down from his, and my desk is situated between the two spaces.
Great. Do I have to sign anything for an expense account now?
Yes, Mr. Armonde. In addition to that, I’m to help you look for a company apartment in the next month. While Mr. and Mrs. Havisham love to have you in their home, Mrs. Havisham thinks it’s best for you to have your own space.
Miranda, I really must’ve been on god’s good karma list to have such an angel assistant as you. What’s my official title again? I’d love to get business cards printed ASAP so we can have that rolling day one.
Director, New Business Initiatives and Investments.
Great. Um. How long do you think I can get that Director up to VP? If I want to stick to my dream wedding in five years, I’ll need to at least be a seasoned VP on my way up to SVP.
Yes, well, I think your uncle has two years in mind for you before a promotion. The team is excited to have you aboard though. Would you like a tour of the office now?
Two years? Okay, let’s do it. Lead the way!
Jon Mayren believes that the art of storytelling involves two elements -- the story that is spoken, and the story that is heard. What Jon Mayren strives for in their work is truth in the story that is spoken, and understanding in the story that is heard. Objectively, what Jon Mayren presents will have heavy influences of having been written by a woman of color, but, Jon Mayren hopes that the anonymity that surrounds an unknown name lets the reader understand the story first from their own perspective, and then, after digestion, that it expands into an understanding of the perspective of the "other." Jon Mayren believes the reader has the power to change what "the default" looks like, and that every person can have the capacity for empathy for every other person. Jon Mayren believes that the future can be post-racial and non-binary if we accept that each of us is other, that none of us are other, and that we have a responsibility to be human to everyone. This belief stems from Mayren's own experiences growing up in New York City.
The image in this piece was taken in Woodside, New York, in 2017, and is titled The Concrete Always Bites Back.
For inquiries: writerJMayren@gmail.com