Hired, I think.

i couldn't ignore the Congolese man's advice. it was too direct, too all-knowing, too weird. when i finished my appointment with the admissions counselor i went outside the building and called Jimmy.
"Ahhh, Kacie. I need you. Can you come to my office?"
Jimmy is Albanian and having learned English in Italy he carries the accent along with other unique linguistic qualities that brand his voice and way of speaking one of the most original i've ever heard. oftentimes, as a volunteer, i left his office understanding very little- and not because of pronunciation (which at times is a challenge to decipher), but how he puts his words together. like an avalanche- fast and consuming and unforeseeable- a once predictable conversation could quickly turn in to a mess of confusing phrases and half-expressed thoughts leaving me trapped and struggling for some light of an answer. his big desk and framed certifications somehow led me to believe the difficulty in translation was my fault, and i accepted. however his willingness to laugh at himself smooths over every glitch.
"Uh, sure. When?"
"Now if is good for you?"
"Now?"
He laughed. "Yes, if is good? for you?"
"Okay, I'll be there."
when i walked in to his office he told me to sit and he swiveled my direction and crossed his legs.
"you see" he started "i called you for this job developer. this position, the job developer position. is bad, veeeerrry bad. some stupid girl she come and she i don't know. 2 weeks. i don't see her. i never hear of such thing. i don't know, have you ever hear of this?"
"of what?"
"of taking a position and starting to work like this and never coming back!"
"you hired someone, she worked for two weeks, and she left?"
"i'm asking you? can you believe this? have you ever hear of this? i don't know. she takes evvveerrrything off her desk, maybe she's dead or something. any way Kacie, we have this job of the job developer. you do things, i don't know, help the refugees find jobs. they need a lot of help. can you do this?"
"sure."
"is 20 hours per week, thas all. but maybe 40. i don't know. 20 right now. we'll see."
"okay."
"okay. good. you are verrrryyyy nice girl. this is a perfect job. good. come back tomorrow."
i drove home pretty sure the next day i was officially a staff member, that my months of volunteerism had paid off, and that with only 20 hours a week i could afford to live (hopefully) and still have time for school.