By Dr. Jamal Ali Hussein
My heart fell like a stone at the threshold of my career, during an open-house in 1990. Everyone around me appeared impossibly polished—shoes gleaming, silk ties flowing neatly against pressed shirts, handbags sleek as river-worn stone. Even their scent lingered in the cool morning air: subtle, costly, carrying the quiet assurance of belonging. I heard the soft whisper of leather on marble as they shifted, the low murmur of rehearsed calm—confidence moving through the room like a steady current.
I, by contrast, wore a mismatched jacket and trousers, and the borrowed tie at my neck felt stiff and foreign—more disguise than clothing. Beneath it, heat gathered, a thin bead of sweat tracing a path down my spine. My pulse thudded in my ears, louder than the soft flipping of résumés and the muted murmur of rehearsed answers floating around me.
I tugged at my jacket, willing it to behave, smoothing damp palms against my thighs. I had crossed deserts, real sand biting my ankles, wind like fire in my lungs; this tiled lobby and its cold-glass doors would not undo me. Confidence, I whispered to myself, is armor you forge, not borrow.
When I finally stepped outside—interview behind me—the world felt rinsed and new. Sunlight spilled across the pavement, warm on my face, sharp with autumn air. Leaves shivered in the breeze, as though the trees themselves applauded. And in the clean, open light, that unsteady flicker in my chest—hope, fragile but alive—rose like dawn.
Dr. Jamal Ali Hussein is a writer and a graduate of the MFA program in nonfiction writing at Southern New Hampshire University. He is also a scholar and former international banking executive, with degrees from Johns Hopkins University and Harvard Business School. He is currently working on a memoir and lives in Quincy, Massachusetts, with his family.
Image by Karola G courtesy of Pexels
“Confidence, I whispered to myself, is armor you forge, not borrow.” This scene is so relatable and artfully depicted. I’m there with you. Hope you got the job!
Wow, you set the scene beautifully with your descriptions. You let us in to your inner world and how you summoned up confidence in an environment where you felt you didn’t belong. The description of how you traversed a sand storm in the desert and survived was stunning. What sticks with me is “Confidence is armor you must forge not borrow”. That’s better than any self-help book advice!
This is so beautiful and well written, and so relatable and reassuring… I felt that I was there with you… You write so beautifully, well done!
I will be whispering that line to myself for years to come. Thank you for sharing this beautifully relatable flash frame moment.
So beautiful, such vivid imagery from beginning to end. Leaves shivered in the breeze as though the trees themselves applauded. Thank you.
Beautiful imagery. I’m in that moment with you!
Absolutely stunning. Thank you. What a gifted writer you are. I was right there in the room with you, and then felt the sun as you stepped out. Beautiful.
Thank you for so vividly sharing a moment we all can relate to. I’ll mentally tattoo this line on my heart: “Confidence, I whispered to myself, is armor you forge, not borrow.”
Oh thank you, Dr J A Hussein! Your writing is so poignant and closes with such celebration that I cried. You express those moments with such depth and clarity…a gift to all of us who have walked or are walking through them, too, looking for a glimpse of understanding and hope.
Exquisite. I am one of the well-heeled and subtly perfumed inspired women in that room, but I am also well aware of the talent he represents and I respect him.
Wonderful. Thank you.
Wow! Incredibly evocative and powerful! I can relate to the feeling of being an imposter surrounded by people who – in my mind at time – obviously, inherently belonged. I love the line about having crossed the desert, you were not going to let this room of people defeat you. Well done! And thank you for writing a piece that so resonates with my experience.
Great descriptive language! I could feel the stuffiness of the interview room and the breeze of relief you felt afterwards.
The attention to finely detailed descriptions of clothing, ambience, and emotions in the before-and-after interview paragraphs were masterful in their evocative power to keep me present, and fully engaged. I’d love to read more from this skilled CNF story-teller.
I loved your “confidence” line and the sweater photograph!
Masterful! I’m guessing that if you didn’t get that job, you were infinitely better prepared for the next interview—in your clothing and your self-confidence!
“Confidence is armor you forge, not borrow.” You could create a whole merch line on Etsy with that one! That aside, I think many of us know what it’s like to suspect we’re in the wrong place before an interview. Your observations bring us right back into that situation with you, even though you hint that you have faced greater challenges. You leave us wanting more. Please accommodate!
Dr. Jamal Ali Hussein, what a delightful and hilarious writer you are! A job interview? No, my friend, it’s a battle scene where the true enemy isn’t the hiring committee but that necktie trying to commit joint suicide with you! Why do interviews feel like a war zone? They should come with hazard pay. And from your description of that lobby, it sounds like luxury Italian faux designers sent half the candidates. And you show up dressed like you assembled your outfit during a small house fire. And there you were, a man who has sweated through deserts, grappling with a suit jacket that some Olympian god-folk Zeus sent down to test your mettle. Legend!