Page 43 of Another Lucky Number (Lucky Number #2)
Chapter Thirty-Seven
T here’s polite applause as Sébastien steps off the stage and takes the only remaining front row seat, kept vacant by a ‘reserved’ sign.
All eyes are on me now. I shift under the collective scrutiny, then James’s tip about eye contact pops into my mind and I alter my gaze.
It works.
I discreetly clear my throat and start talking, my voice projecting clearly through the headset.
‘Thank you, Sébastien. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to echo Sébastien’s appreciation of you taking the time to be here this afternoon.
How I came to be here myself today is not characteristic of how interviews go at Paradis Resorts.
So I’m told anyway. I’m actually here on holiday, and I was lucky enough to be offered this opportunity.
I won’t bore you with the whole story, but I will share that it involved an appalling karaoke performance and the antics of a rather opportunistic friend of mine… ’
A ripple of amusement dances through my audience, along with some raised eyebrows, expressing what appears to be a mixture of surprise and intrigue.
‘So, rather than spending the last few days soaking up the sun and devouring the beach reads I brought with me, I’ve been diligently preparing for this moment.
You might be feeling pained for me. I’ve missed out on the much needed R and ensuring the employees are treated with respect and feel valued, so they care about the company and they fiercely protect what it stands for. For me, people are what make or break an organisation.’
‘Thank you, Emma,’ says Madam Sinclair. ‘That’s a very comprehensive answer.’
Sébastien opens up the floor again, and several times after that.
It’s a tough process, but with my secret weapons of not making direct eye contact and counting before I answer each question, I make it through relatively unscathed.
The only hurdles I stumble at are a complex financial question from one of the resort accountants and a couple that are very specific to the hospitality industry.
But I do my best to answer them as well as I can.
However, just as I think I’m out of the danger zone, things take a turn for the less amicable.
‘We shall make this the last question,’ says Sébastien. ‘I am sure that Emma must be looking forward to a well-earned rest.’
This time only one hand raises. I look to its owner and freeze.
It’s Mr Miller – the unpleasant man from the bar and reception – and he’s watching me with pure derision.
Utterly intimidated, I scan the audience, willing someone else to raise their hand, but there’s nothing.
Sébastien appears to hesitate, before inviting him to speak.
‘Monsieur Miller. What is your question for Emma?’
Mr Miller gets to his feet, clearly intending to make the most of being in the spotlight.
‘Thank you, Sébastien. My question for Emma relates to guest privacy. Just days ago, I caught her eavesdropping on a private conversation my family and I were having in the bar. Therefore, I would like to ask Emma, as a potential senior member of staff within Paradis Resorts, where her morals lie in relation to privacy and discretion?’
An unsettled murmur snakes through the audience.
Mr Miller doesn’t have a question for me at all.
He didn’t even respect me enough to address me personally.
He’s done this to discredit me and sink my chances of getting the job, and whatever his agenda – power, sexism, simple arrogance – he may have royally screwed things for me.
After a moderate pause – this time I have to count to ten – I decide that even if my chance at the job is gone, I need to hold my head high and come out of this the bigger person. I take a long, steadying breath.
‘Mr Miller, thank you for your question. Firstly, I would like to apologise if I in any way intruded on your family discussion in the bar. I can assure you that this was not intentional and that I consider guest privacy to be of the utmost importance. I have held positions of responsibility in the past with access to confidential and sensitive customer information, and I have always treated this with complete discretion, while also taking careful measures to keep it secure. As an employee of Paradis Resorts, I would absolutely treat guest privacy with that same level of respect and care.’
Mr Miller sneers at me, and looks like he’s about to say something else, when Sébastien cuts in.
‘Thank you, Monsieur Miller. And thank you, everyone, for your time today – in particular, our treasured guests. Perhaps we can give Emma one final round of applause for taking on this task today. And for giving up her precious holiday time for this process.’
There’s another polite round of applause, to which I nod my thanks, then my audience turn their attention to the feedback form, before getting up to leave, chatting animatedly as they go.
‘How was that?’ Sébastien asks me. ‘I hope not too painful.’
I bite my lip, desperate to say something about Mr Miller, but I know it’s a bad idea. I can’t change the fact that it happened, and by bringing it up, I could end up causing more damage.
‘I feel like I did my best,’ I say instead, searching Sébastien’s face for any clue as to what he’s thinking, but there’s nothing. ‘And it didn’t rain.’
‘That is true, it did not. Well, Emma, I must go and attend to some business. Thank you once again for your efforts. I will be speaking with Eloise this afternoon, and I will come back to you with a decision by the end of the day.’
‘OK, thanks. And, Sébastien… thank you again for the opportunity. I’ve learned a lot these last few days.’
‘I am glad to hear this. à bient?t, Emma .’
He walks swiftly up the aisle as Cat and Amber come rushing towards to me.
‘ Honey, you did so well! ’ Cat gushes.
‘ That was boss! ’ Amber slaps me a high five. ‘So much better than your previous run throughs.’
‘Well, I didn’t pass out. That’s progress,’ I say. ‘Though it doesn’t really matter how well I did. It was always a long shot, but my fate is sealed now that horrible bloke, Mr Miller, has sunk my chances.’
‘Yeah, he was a right tosser.’ Amber frowns.
‘He was so unpleasant,’ says Cat. ‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens.’
‘Yes, we will,’ I give a despondent shake of my head, still unable to believe that was how things ended. ‘Sébastien said he’d be in touch later today, so I may as well forget about it for now. Can we go eat? I need some fuel after that experience – and maybe a nice, chilled glass of pinot grigio.’