Chapter 2 - A Question Nobody Wanted Asked
Gavin reached for the worksheet.
Jada let him take it.
“The data has been simplified,” he said.
“Then I’d note that before analyzing it.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“It changes what the numbers can tell us.”
Marissa looked from one to the other.
“Can you explain?”
Jada chose her words carefully.
“Identical readings aren’t automatically wrong. But if we don’t know how they were collected, we shouldn’t treat them as six independent checks.”
Gavin placed the page beneath his folder.
“We’ve established that you’re thorough.”
His tone suggested that thoroughness had become a character defect.
The rest of the interview moved quickly.
Jada answered questions about spreadsheets, shift handoffs, and resolving disagreements with supervisors. When Gavin asked whether she had difficulty respecting hierarchy, she remembered the time a manager had told her to stop documenting damaged cartons because the photographs made his shift look careless.
“I respect responsibility,” she said. “If a decision belongs to someone else, I make sure they have the information they need. Then I document what I did.”
Marissa wrote something down.
Gavin stopped asking questions.
At the elevator, Marissa shook her hand again.
“We’ll contact you after we finish the process.”
“Thank you.”
Jada stepped into the lobby feeling both relieved and certain she had talked herself out of the job.
Valerie looked up.
“How did it go?”
“I didn’t set anything on fire.”
“Stronger start than some people have.”
Jada smiled.
Outside, she called Denise.
“Well?” her mother asked.
“The coffee man owns the company.”
A long silence followed.
Then Denise said, “Baby, you didn’t threaten him, did you?”
“Only his dry-cleaning budget.”
Her mother laughed so hard she had to cough.
Jada leaned against her car.
Then the laughter faded, and the real world returned.
“Any letter from the landlord?”
Denise hesitated.
“Just a reminder.”
“Mama.”
“We’re behind, Jada. They’re allowed to remind us.”
“How much time?”
“We have time to make a plan.”
That meant less time than Denise wanted to admit.
Jada stared through her windshield.
“I have a warehouse shift tonight.”
“You had one this morning too.”
“I can sleep this afternoon.”
“You can’t keep building a life out of hours nobody else wants.”
“Right now those hours pay.”
Denise grew quiet.
“I know.”
They ended the call gently.
Jada drove home, washed the blouse in the bathroom sink, and hung it over the shower rod. The stain faded from dark brown to something less dramatic and more permanent.
At four fifteen, her phone rang.
Marissa.
“We’d like to offer you the position.”
Jada sat down on the closed toilet lid.
“I’m sorry?”
Marissa repeated the offer, including the salary, benefits, start date, and standard probationary period.
Jada closed her eyes.
She had imagined this moment involving celebration.
Instead, she asked the question that had followed her out of the building.
“Did Mr. Whitfield tell you to hire me?”
“No.”
“I need an honest answer.”
“You’re getting one. He disclosed the coffee incident and removed himself from the hiring decision. We used the interview scores and your work sample.”
“And Gavin?”
A brief pause.
“Gavin had concerns about your lack of corporate experience. I had concerns about overlooking relevant experience because it happened on a warehouse floor.”
Jada pressed her hand against her mouth.
Marissa continued.
“There is one change. The position will initially report to Elena Ruiz in quality systems while supporting operations.”
“Why?”
“Because the opening includes data reconciliation work that fits your answers.”
Jada looked at the ruined blouse.
“Yes,” she said.
Then, more firmly, “Yes. I accept.”
Denise cried when Jada told her.
Afterward, they ate spaghetti with butter because neither wanted to spend money celebrating money that had not arrived yet.
“You’re buying a blouse,” Denise declared.
“After rent.”
“A blouse before you go back into that building.”
“Maybe both.”
Denise raised her glass of tap water.
“To both.”
On Monday morning, Jada arrived in a blue shirt purchased from a discount store with a coupon.
Elena Ruiz met her upstairs.
She had silver-rimmed glasses, a sensible haircut, and the expression of a woman who did not confuse urgency with panic.
“I’ve heard about the worksheet,” she said.
Jada’s stomach tightened.
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass anyone.”
“That’s good. Embarrassment is unreliable. Records are better.”
She led Jada into a small office overlooking the loading yard.
A stack of route reports sat on the desk.
Elena placed one hand on them.
“You don’t need to prove misconduct. You don’t need to save the company. Your job is to compare records and tell me what agrees, what doesn’t, and what you can’t determine.”
Jada nodded.
For the first time, the assignment sounded manageable.
Then Elena turned the top page.
Six readings.
Six stops.
May you like
The same number beside every one.
“Let’s begin,” she said.
