Page 1 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
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Pleadingwith hiring managers to convince them I’m a good fit for roles I’m vastly overqualified for isn’t how I envisioned my forties going. Then again, nothing has gone according to my reasonable and, frankly, mediocre expectations for my life.
Instead of celebrating turning forty with a birthday drink at an overpriced bar, then going home alone and getting in bed by 11, I made an emergency trip to the omega clinic.
Instead of continuing the status quo of going to work, coming home and rotting on my couch with a book, I was hiding my new designation at work.
Instead of avoiding thoughts of dating and my loneliness at all costs, I was courted by a pack of men who felt like they were ripped from my imagination.
And to top it all off, instead of getting to reap the benefits of over a decade of working my ass off for my employer, I got fired because a member of the aforementioned pack outed me as an omega.
So here I am, trapped in a stuffy conference room, fighting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down theback of my neck. Trying not to look too desperate to please as the beta hiring manager looks up from scanning my resume for the third time.
The smile the woman almost half my age gives me as she sets the paper down is pitying. Guilty. It’s the look of someone who already knows they won’t hire me, and who also knows their reason is bullshit. I like that look even less than outright disdain for me being an omega daring to interview for a high-pressure job.
Dammit. So much for hoping this fledgling firm would look past my designation for the sake of hiring someone with my considerable professional connections and experience.
I plaster on my best placid smile as I go through the motions of the interview, knowing the decision was made before I stepped foot in the building.
When I first started my job hunt, I tried to change their minds. Laid on the charm and used my best tactics to sell my abilities. I addressed the elephant in the room, letting them know I understand my designation isn’t common for the role, but went on to explain in detail how it won’t impact my work. Hell, once I resorted to listing off some high-profile omega politicians who show it’s possible for omegas to remain calm under pressure.
None of it mattered.
They see the fact that I revealed as an omega and subsequently got fired from my previous position a few months later as irrefutable proof I can’t do the job.
Why do they bother bringing me in? It’s a waste of everyone’s time. My best guess is they have to meet some kind of diversity quota for job candidates. They bring me in to go through the charade of pretending they didn’t immediately put me in the “no” pile when they saw my designation so they can claim they have inclusive hiring practices.
I mentally check out until the beta across from me gives me another one of those damn pitying smiles and pushes back from the table. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Clairmont. We’ll be in touch.”
“No, you won’t,” I mumble under my breath as I stand, my omega too overheated and frustrated to care if she hears me.
What’s the point of trying to seem professional when everyone automatically assumes I’m fragile and needy?
I squirm out of my blazer as I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, ignoring the glare of distaste from the beta sharing the space with me. I fan myself and mutter under my breath about how everything is bullshit, I’m tired of this, and that I should’ve stayed home in my nest.
By the time I’ve made it out of the building, I’ve cooled down a bit. The one good thing about dealing with interview after interview is that I’ve gotten better at regulating my omega’s reaction to things. It’s also shown me that, nine times out of ten, even if her reactions and instincts annoy me, they’re correct. I’ve spent so much of my life pushing away emotional reactions and gut instincts for the sake of being logical. Shoving down what my body was trying to tell me and turning every red flag into a sign I’m being irrational and need to calm down.
I’m tired of being calm. I’m tired of doing everything I can to prove to others that I’m enough. Where has that gotten me?
With my job gone, I’m lost. The only things I have left are my brother and dad who I rarely get to see, and my best friend, Astrid. I whittled my life down, keeping people out in order for my life to stay “calm”.
I’ll also literally lose my apartment if I don’t get a job soon. My emergency fund is drying up quickly between the astronomical cost of getting heat suppressants while uninsured and paying my rent.
I glance at the clock on my phone to see if there’s enough time for me to grab a pity scone before my next interview. Unfortunately, that’ll make me late, so I sigh as I walk past the bakery and promise my omega consolation pastries when I get home.
Part of me thinks I should cancel my next interview and get started with my pity party right away. I’m tired and pissy, and I’ve been dreading this interview since they reached out to me. But I can’t afford to skip it.
This is my last chance. I’ve applied to—and gotten rejected by—every PR firm within a fifty-mile radius. The prospect of moving makes me want to curl up in my nest and never leave.
Nothing like going into a job interview with that level of pressure and desperation. The only glimmer of hope is that they contacted me. They knew about my designation and reached out anyway. It’s not ideal, but beggars can’t be choosers. I just hope I don’t have to stoop to extreme groveling to secure the role.
“Camille!It’s so good to see you again.” Alex smiles warmly as he meets me in DesigNation’s reception area. The lanky alpha’s enthusiasm startles me, and I smile back as best I can while he gives me a vigorous handshake. Apparently, either Alex hasn’t gotten the memo that I’m an omega, or he doesn’t treat them like they’re made of glass.
Praying that it’s the latter, I follow him into a sunny conference room, where he gestures for me to take a seat. I watch him warily, but his posture is relaxed. Oddly enough, he seems thrilled that I’m here, which I have to assume means he’s desperate for my help.
Huh, this might actually work. Not that I want to workwith DesigNation’s perverted, omega-harassing CEO again, but I don’t have a choice. I mentally weigh the merits of playing it cool and pretending like I’m not as eager to get a job as they are to have me working for them, as Alex offers me a glass of water.
“Thanks so much for fitting us into your schedule,” Alex says, smiling broadly again. “When you left Pulse PR, it was a big loss for us.”
