I shake the interviewer’s hand firmly, barely keeping the grin off my face.
"Thank you for your time," I say, managing to stick to my friendly voice. The person I’m pretending to be exudes confidence, someone who doesn’t second-guess herself. She isn’t me, not really. But she’s who I needed to be today.
I walk out of the building with a quiet kind of pride settling in my chest. I’ve done it. I have survived. More than that—I have done well. The fake confidence Jude told me to adopt hadn’t cracked once.
“The person interviewing you doesn’t know who you are. And if it does get messed up, you can always get another job,” he’d said.
I had taken those words to heart. And for the first time, maybe ever, I didn’t feel small in a room full of expectations. The result? A damn good interview exp
