The soft click of the latch on the mailbox snapping shut awoke the motionless blonde from her reverie. Filled with trepidation and a flicker of hope she rose from the chair and made her way to the front door. As she walked thoughts predicting the postman’s latest delivery flashed in and out of her mind. Yet these thoughts were trivial, she knew what she would find nestled in the small metallic mailbox. What else could it be? Her hypothesis was confirmed as she carefully withdrew the envelope whose contents could potentially determine her future.
Eagerly she tore it open, yet upon glimpsing the enclosed letter her hands fell slack beside her, disappointment etched into her distraught face. She was expecting it; how could she expect any different after so many previous rejections? Yet each repeat of this vicious cycle hurt equally, if not more than, the previous. The envelope and its grief inducing contents fell from her limp hands, landing face up, clearly showing the three simple words that seemed haunt her like a curse; “Job Application – Rejected.”
She didn’t know what it was that made company after company overlook her, none even bothering to offer a single interview. She had the knowledge, the skills, the qualifications. Yet none of the 23 job resumes she had sent out were returned with the offer of an interview. What was it that drove them away? Her mind strained, searching for an answer. Why was she cursed to fail time and time again? How could they judge a book by its cover, her resume? And that was it…The cover of the book of her life… Her name, Emily Singh. Three generations of inter-racial marriages had removed all trace of Indian in her, yet she still proudly carried her fathers name. Until now her blonde hair and fair complexion had protected her from racial bullying, but potential employers couldn’t see that, all they saw was the name. Singh.
She rushed to the computer, opened her resume, and as thousands of years of heritage and culture...