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We sat in her office, which overlooked the Thames like a silent witness, and we didn’t talk much about my CV at all. Instead, we talked about life, about North London mornings that test your patience, and about why I chose to give my last bit of money to someone I didn’t even know. She listened more than she spoke, which made every word feel heavier. She admitted that the job was high-pressure and that she needed people she could trust to do the right thing when no one would ever see it. By the time the coffee had gone cold and forgotten between us, she offered me the position with a starting salary that was twenty percent higher than the one listed in the ad.
