The air in the Ade's Oil and Gas conference room was thick with a nervous energy that nine candidates, all impeccably dressed, tried and failed to hide.
The polished mahogany table gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the anxious faces of the men and women vying for the Assistant Head Chef position. This wasn't a typical culinary job; the proposal called for a manager, a leader who could tame chaos and streamline a massive operation.
On the other side of the table sat the panel, an intimidating row of authority.
At the head was the Human Resources Manager, Mr. Emeka, a stout man with a discerning gaze that missed nothing. Beside him sat the General Manager, a meticulous woman with a stern expression. Next to her was Tade's assistant, her notepad ready. And at the far end, in the corner where the light seemed to dim, sat the CEO himself. Tade Oluwafemi Adebanjo, with a few other stakeholders who simply observed.
He was a formidable presence. His hands, clasped loosely before him, were a study in calm power. His expression was professional, a mask of impartial authority that gave nothing away. For Anwana, who sat among the candidates, his presence was a paradox. The man who had knelt before her, stripped of all pride, was now the untouchable CEO, the Chairman.
The man who whispered "my love" to her was now a stranger. The reality of their different worlds hit her with a sudden, painful force. She felt her heart race, but she took a deep breath, grounding herself. She was here as a candidate, a chef, not as his fiancée.
The first eight candidates were a blur of technical jargon and rehearsed answers. They spoke of menu optimization, food safety standards, and team management, but their words lacked substance.
One chef, a boisterous man, bragged about his Michelin-star experience in a restaurant, a detail that was irrelevant to a corporate cafeteria. Another stumbled over basic financial questions, proving his skill was in the kitchen, not the balance sheet.
Tade watched them all with the same impassive expression, occasionally scribbling notes on a pad.
Then, it was Anwana's turn.
"Next," Mr. Emeka announced, his voice a low monotone. "Anwana Udeme James."
Anwana rose, her movements fluid and confident despite the storm of emotions inside her. She walked to the empty chair and sat down, her gaze meeting Tade's for a fleeting second before she turned to the panel. His eyes held a flash of warmth, a silent message only she could see, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Good morning," she said, her voice clear and steady. "Thank you for this opportunity."
The General Manager began with a question about her experience, and she answered professionally, detailing her time in the industry and her passion for food that nourishes both body and soul. But then, Tade spoke, his voice deep and resonant, cutting through the formality.
"I have the proposal in front of me," he said, holding up the very same envelope she had seen his assistant with. "It outlines severe issues with staff strain, supply management, and overall operational inefficiency. Our current Head Chef has failed to address these. How would you, as an assistant, work to solve a problem like this?"
It was a loaded question, a test of her managerial skill, not her culinary prowess. The other candidates had given generic answers, but Anwana didn't.
"First, I wouldn't rush to hire," she began, her eyes sweeping over the panel. "The proposal suggests a 'staffing adjustment,' but that's a symptom, not the cause.
My first step would be a comprehensive audit of the current kitchen workflow. I'd interview every single staff member, from the Head Chef to the kitchen porters, to understand their pain points."
She spoke with a quiet conviction that commanded attention. "Once I have that data, I would implement a new workflow. It's not about working harder, but smarter.
For example, cross-training staff on multiple stations to prevent burnout and increase flexibility. I would also introduce a digital inventory system to track supplies in real-time and reduce waste."
The HR Manager, who had been leaning back in his chair, now sat forward, his eyes narrowed in focus. Tade's assistant had stopped taking notes and was simply staring at Anwana, a hint of respect in her eyes.
"And how would you manage the financial aspect of such a large kitchen?" the General Manager asked. "It's a huge operation, and every penny counts."
"A kitchen is like a small business within a company," Anwana replied, her confidence soaring. "I would create a budget based on food cost percentages, not just a flat number. I would also seek out local suppliers to reduce procurement costs and ensure freshness. Every dish would be a business decision, not just a recipe."
Tade remained silent, but his eyes, locked on hers, held an unreadable intensity. The other candidates had spoken of their love for cooking, but Anwana had spoken of her love for the business of cooking.
The interview ended, and the candidates were ushered out. The tension in the room remained, a quiet hum.
Mr. Emeka was the first to speak. "She is the only one who truly understood the problem."
"She has an analytical mind," the General Manager added, her tone impressed. "She didn't just talk about food; she talked about management, about business."
Tade stood up, walked to the window, and stared out at the bustling city below. He knew she was the best candidate. But this was more than a job; it was their lives intertwined in a way no one could ever fully understand.
"She's the one," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, a final verdict. "Send her the offer letter."
The silence that had fallen over the conference room after Tade's verdict was finally broken by Mr. Emeka, the HR Manager. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.
"I agree, sir," Mr. Emeka said, his voice measured. "She clearly has the managerial skills we're looking for. But with a role this crucial, and with so many other qualified people who interviewed, I think it would be prudent to have a second round. A practical, competitive interview."
The General Manager nodded in agreement. "A cooking challenge. Let's see how their practical skills match their proposals."
Tade's assistant, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "It would show the board that we're not just hiring based on a single interview. It provides a more transparent and fair process."
Tade listened, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.
He knew Anwana was the best candidate, and he didn't need a cooking competition to confirm it. But he also understood the optics. To the board, to the other candidates, and to the company as a whole, it had to be a fair process. There could be no hint of favoritism, especially given his recent personal life drama. He owed it to Anwana and to himself to ensure this was handled professionally.
"Alright," Tade said, leaning back in his chair. "Let's pick the top three candidates. We'll have a cooking competition. It will be supervised and timed, with our Head Chef and a few key stakeholders as judges."
Mr. Emeka smiled, pulling out the interview files. "Based on our scores, the top three are Ms. Anwana James, Mr. Biodun Oladele, and Ms. Chioma Okafor."
Tade nodded. He knew Biodun was a veteran chef with decades of experience, and Chioma had impressive credentials from a renowned culinary school. Anwana was up against stiff competition, but he had seen her brilliance firsthand.
"The theme will be a surprise," Tade continued, his voice taking on a decisive edge.
"The ingredients will be provided, and they will have two hours to prepare a complete meal. We will judge on taste, presentation, creativity, and efficiency."
He looked at his assistant. "You will be in charge of logistics. Ensure the kitchen is ready. The competition will be held here, in the company's main kitchen, at 10 a.m. sharp in two days. This is a very important role, and we need to be sure we are making the right choice."
As the panel broke, Tade stood, a sense of quiet anticipation filling him.
He had no doubt Anwana would ace this, but the thought of seeing her in her element, in a professional kitchen, made his heart quicken. It would be a true test of her skill and her resolve.
The next few days would not just decide the future of the company's kitchen but also con
firm the strength of the woman he was about to marry.