Story: Eyes on me

The hall looked imposing with its fifteen-feet high ceiling and mirror panels reflecting light from the enormous chandeliers that shone bright like the afternoon sun. Guests seemed to dress to the nines, men in black suits, women either in tweed dresses or tight knee-length skirts and sharp blazers. Everyone looked serious and businesslike. What business have I got to be here? Once a socialite who used to be scornful of working women, I used to think that industrious women were indicative of their emasculated male partners, men who couldn’t provide enough for the family. But my viewpoint has now completely changed. Now I know, when a woman works, she holds the power to tip the relationship dynamics to her favour. And I want to be that woman.

Tonight I will be delivering a presentation to a crowd to introduce my business idea. I haven’t done this for a long time, more than a decade actually. When I met Azim, I fell hard for him and agreed to choose love over a career. This chance came about through a favour of a friend of a friend, and I intended to utilise this to the fullest. When I look back at my married life, perhaps I was actually rather fortunate and privileged, the envy of many women who would have gladly traded places with me. Little do they know, that woman who was me at the time was in fact cursed with boredom and debilitated by lack of independence. Every day I went through the same routine, blowing kisses at my daughter as she gets whisked away to school by the chauffeur in the mornings. And then I would aimlessly leisurely walk around at a mall and spend spend spend my husband’s money. But in truth, I felt empty and devoid of goals and purposes in life.

The music started blaring loudly as a sign that the event was about to start. The CEO gave his speech which was received with a thunderous applause. Then it was time for start-up founders to deliver their presentations one by one, to clinch that million-dollar funding from a group of discerning venture capital vultures vying for the next big thing. Self-doubt lurked around in my mind, “Should I present, or should I not?” My palms started to sweat and beads of perspiration fell off my forehead, despite the 18-degrees temperature of the room. “Imagine the audience naked!” a voice said to me.

“Start-up Night would now like to present Miss Alicia Azman, our next candidate. Her start-up YoHelper is set to revolutionise the helper industry. With just three taps on your phone, YoHelper sends the help you can get to do any chores that you are too lazy to do on your own. Let’s give a round of applause to Miss Alicia.”

It was my turn to present and all eyes were on me. The crowd looked like eagles flying in circles about to devour their prey. I was intensely scrutinised and felt like meat to a bunch of hungry predators. Some wanted me to fumble and fall, some wanted to bet on me to make them insanely rich. Whatever it was, I couldn’t afford to screw this up.

“Good evening everyone. I’m Alicia Azman of YoHelper. With YoHelper you don’t need to look elsewhere to get a helper to help you do any chores.”

Then the microphone started to dysfunction, spattering my speech as it threw the sound off pitch. Around 60 seconds gone and I’ve got only 90 seconds left. I fervently prayed that I wouldn’t stumble, but it happened, nonetheless.

“What makes us different from other similar apps? Uh… uh…” I forgot my lines, ten seconds gone to waste. “Uh… uh…” I thought I practiced this already, how could I forget? “Uh… we’ve signed a deal with the Ministry of Labour to provide us with helpers to serve on our platform!”

There was a moment of silence, and I saw bewildered faces in the crowd. Some were turning their heads facing each other with a look that baffled them. I looked into the crowd pretending that didn’t see them and put on a beaming smile to give the impression of confidence in what I’ve just said.

I walked off the stage with my head held up high. I smiled and waved slightly to the crowd and they returned the gesture with a roaring clap. At that moment, I felt so small, I just wanted to curl into a corner and weep.

I found a small flock of guests talking to each other over drinks. I moved towards the circle of guests and tried to join in the conversation in order to forget what I have just said. Words that didn’t reflect the truth, words that were only made up to look good.

From afar I saw a man in a dark blue suit and a red tie walked hurriedly towards me. He looked straight into my eyes without flinching for even a second. He stood in front of me and offered his hand.

“Alicia, I’m Khairul Ilias of RR Capital. I’m interested in your start-up and impressed with what you’ve done with the Ministry of Labour. Let’s have coffee. Are you available next week?” With a gracious smile I accepted his invitation. But there was a feeling of uncertainty that popped up over what I have just claimed and I thought, “What have I got myself into?”